Gravity
by WynCatastrophe
Summary: Sequel to "Freefall." Anakin's life gets a little more complicated, but friends are worth saving.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Yay, Chapter One is up! Sequel to Freefall, of course. How's Ryn doing since her dramatic fall?

Disclaimer: I still don't own Star Wars, although Ryn is all mine. This story is entirely a work of fanfiction, for which I am receiving no profit. Please relieve my pain by sending exuberant feedback.

Chapter Playlist:

About Her (Kill Bill Vol. II soundtrack)

CHAPTER ONE:

Obi-Wan looked up as Anakin suddenly tensed in the pilot's seat. "Something wrong, Padawan?"

Anakin shook his head tightly. "No, Master. Just a feeling."

The tension around his mouth gave his assurance the lie. "What sort of feeling?"

Anakin looked down at the controls. "A bad feeling, Master."

Obi-Wan studied him for a moment. "Anakin, if a Master and Padawan are to make an effective team, they must communicate. If you have a bad feeling, I want to know about it. Can you tell what this one is about?"

Anakin fiddled with a knob as though he were planning to repair it. But Obi-Wan was by now familiar with Anakin's habit of looking for something to fix whenever he was troubled, and did not take exception.

Finally, Anakin said, "It's Ryn, Master. I'm not stupid, you know. I know part of the reason we're on this tour of the Core worlds right now is that you think we were getting too close, spending too much time together. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about her. But I _saw_ her, Master. She was lying in a pool of blood, and she was ... Master, she was _dead._" Anakin turned anguished eyes on Obi-Wan. "Something awful is happening back home. Ryn is in trouble. I just know it."

Obi-Wan frowned at his Padawan. On the one hand, Anakin was right, if rather uncomfortably perceptive: part of Obi-Wan's plan in initiating this trip _now_ was to separate him from Ryn before whatever there was going on between them developed into something else, something more painful to sever. He'd like spare Anakin that, if he could. Leaving his mother had been bad enough. Obi-Wan knew he still missed her, even if he rarely spoke of it. No need to add an abortive love affair.

On the other hand, if Anakin was right ... and Obi-Wan had certainly learned not to dismiss Anakin's "bad feelings" ... then it would be wrong to do nothing and let Ryn walk blindly into whatever danger awaited her on Coruscant.

His decision made, he nodded. "Drop out of hyperspace. I'm going to open a channel to Coruscant."

Anakin's eyes widened briefly, as though he hadn't expected Obi-Wan to take him seriously; but he complied readily enough.

Obi-Wan tapped buttons and toggled switches, opening the comm channel to the Jedi Temple; but the Padawan at the comm center was unable to raise Ryn after multiple calls.

Obi-Wan hestitated, not looking at Anakin. "I see. Do you think you could put me in touch with Master Yoda?"

Obi-Wan heard the Padawan's surprise in the brief silence that echoed through the cockpit.

"Of course, Master Kenobi. One moment."

Fifteen minutes later, the Padawan was back on the line, sounding nervous. "Ah ... Master Kenobi?"

"Here," he said pleasantly, despite the growing knot of concern in his throat.

Anakin's tension, palpable in the small space, wasn't helping matters.

"I'm afraid I have been ... ah .. unabe to raise Master Yoda. Shall I contact Master Windu or another member of the Council?"

This time Obi-Wan did look at Anakin, thinking fast as he tried to figure out who might be willing to listen. Not Mace, his disapproval was noticeable whenever Orun's name was mentioned. He'd heard Ryn speak with affection of Aayla Secura, but she was on a mission; what about --

Anakin was mouthing a name. _Gallia._

_Oh, all right_.

Obi-Wan spoke into the comm. "Is Master Adi Gallia available?"

"Obi-Wan!" Master Gallia said, her warm tones soothing even over the tinny cockpit speakers. "How can I help you?"

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan admitted. "My Padawan has had a rather disturbing premonition, and we are concerned for the safety of Miss Orun, but we seem unable to raise either her or Master Yoda. Can you shed any light on this matter?"

Adi looked troubled. "No," she said. "But that is certainly unusual. Ryn is too responsible to go wandering off, and it isn't like Mater Yoda not to answer his commlink. I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Anakin's pleading eyes and Gallia's optimistic view of Ryn's character. "In the meantime, my Padawan and I shall head back to Coruscant. We're not that far away; maybe we can do something. We haven't any urgent business, anyway."

"So it _was_ just an excuse to separate us," Anakin said, when Obi-Wan had signed off.

"Not _just_ an excuse," Obi-Wan countered. "You do need to become familiar with the Core worlds. This merely seemed like a particularly good time to make such a trip."

Anakin tightened his mouth as he began programming the jumps. "But _why_, Master? Ryn is a good person. Why is it so wrong to care about her?"

Ob-Wan sighed, watching jump coordinates flick past his Padawan's fingers. "It's not that it's wrong to _care_, Anakin. Compassion is essential for a Jedi, and it is right to admire beings who adhere to the highest standards of conduct. Ryn deserves both your kindness and your respect. I imagine she must be a very good friend." Polite, kind, patient: one of the most truly decent beings Obi-Wan had ever been privileged to meet. And, for that very reason, dangerous to Anakin's focus. She could so easily become a distraction ... because, in herself, she was worthwhile.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "The problem is that, as Jedi, we must deny ourselves attachments that most beings take for granted. We must surrender ourselves to the will of the Force. That means always being willing to let attachments -- people, things, it doesn't matter -- pass out of our lives."

Anakin was scowling as he punched the lever that would launch them into hyperspace. "That sounds ... cold, Master."

"It is not an easy lesson to learn," Obi-Wan said, not quite disagreeing. "It will be especially hard for you, because of the way you were raised. But it is an _important_ lesson." He sighed. "And it's a lesson that gets harder to learn with time, not easier. I know Ryn will miss you ... but I also believe that she genuinely cares for you enough to let you go."

"I'm not sure Ryn will see it that way," Anakin said. He fiddled with the controls a little. "I'm not even sure _I_ see it that way."

Obi-Wan found he had no answer.

When the came out of hyperspace -- too far insystem for Obi-Wan's comfort -- the comm immediately blinked, showing a message from Adi Gallia. The news was not encouraging.

"Master Kenobi, please comm the Temple when you receive this message. I have located the young woman you inquired about, but she is currently in the infirmary in very delicate condition. She has asked to speak with you, but Master Che is uncertain how much time she has left. I urge you to return to Coruscant as quickly as possible."

Anakin took the news predictably ill. Mouth set in a grim line, he whipped their small shuttle in and our of the space lanes as though training for a Podrace.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said sharply as they flashed past a freighter, close enough to scrape paint off the hull if it had had any. "What do you think you are doing? That was _illegal_!"

"You heard Master Gallia," Anakin responded, not slowing in the least. "She told us to get there as fast we could. I'm just trying to follow orders."

_And I'm a mynock,_ Obi-Wan thought. "Yes, yes, Anakin, but we want to arrive in one piece."

"I'll be careful," Anakin promised, without slowing down. "We're nearly to the atmosphere, anyway. Not much longer now."

Obi-Wan gave it up. Anakin was nothing if not a competent pilot. His passengers might find the twists and turns unnerving, but there was no reason to think they wouldn't survive the trip. And Anakin was too distracted by his concern -- _Fear, Obi-Wan, call it what it _is-- to be cowed by his Master's ire.

It was a sign of how worried Anakin was for his friend that he didn't wait to do his usual maintenance check on landing. In fact, he was out of his seat before the landing protocols had been completed, and jumped off the boarding ramp while it was still halfway up.

"Calm down, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, following at a (very slightly) more dignified pace. "Another five minutes won't make that much difference."

Anakin shot him a pained look. "Master Gallia said the Healers didn't know how much time Ryn had. It might make _all_ the difference."

Obi-Wan frowned and hurried his own steps to match Anakin's longer stride. "You're not a Healer. I don't see what either of us can do, once we reach the infirmary."

"Ryn wanted us there," Anakin said, stepping into the lift. "That's all I need to know."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This is really more of a warning. This is one of my favorite chapters, but it gets fairly graphic. Ryn is in bad shape. There's a lot of blood, and it's not pretty. So take that into account before you forge ahead.

Disclaimer: Even after all this time, I still do not own Star Wars (Ryn, however, remains mine, and I am quite possessive of her). I am not making any money from this story, which is purely a work of fanfiction.

Chapter Playlist:

When You're Gone (Avril Lavigne)

Anakin's Betrayal (John Williams)

l'Arena (Ennio Morricone, from the Kill Bill Vol. II soundtrack) -- Ryn's theme, in case you were wondering.

**CHAPTER TWO**

They reached the infirmary in what had to be record time, and asked a Healer in the hall where to find Ryn: in a small room at the end of the hall, near Vokara Che's workstation. It was part of the Temple infirmary Obi-Wan had never had a reason to visit, where only the critically injured were taken.

They nodded to Master Che and stepped through the door.

Even in the dim glow from the bedside lamp., Ryn looked ... bad. Her skin was a pasty, sickly white, and there was blood at one corner of her mouth. Her face and arms - every square centimeter of exposed skin -- was bruised and scored and raw. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was so still that ObiWan had to reach out with the Force to confirm that she was sleeping, not dead.

It took Obi-Wan a minute to register that the Padawan who stood as they entered was Ferus Olin.

_Siri's ... no. Enough._

"Master Kenobi," Ferus said with a bow. "Anakin."

Anakin's eyes were narrowed unpleasantly as he stared at his fellow Padawan. "What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, an edge of belligerence in his tone that was going to be no defense against his pain if the girl in the bed was as close to dying as she looked.

Ferus took the implied insult in stride. "I wanted to be here in case she said anything else. She hasn't been able to tell us much -- out cold, most of the time. But I thought she might wake up. And I ... she's not a Jedi, I didn't think it was right for her to be alone, if ... well, if she didn't recover."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Obi-Wan asked, staving off whatever ill-conceived comment Anakin would no doubt wish to make.

Ferus shook his head. "I was in the garden, talking to a Temple visitor. He was Force-sensitive, but he didn't feel dark -- he told me that he was born on an Outer Rim world and wasn't found until he was much too old to train. He asked me a lot of questions, about Jedi philosophy and how to achieve inner balance, mostly. I told him what I'd been taught, and he seemed satisfied. Then ... then he began to ask me about _outer_ balance, in the Force: what it was, and how it was maintained. I told him about the prophecy of the Chosen One, and he asked me if we had any idea who it might be." The boy was more troubled than Obi-Wan could ever remember seeing him, his face tight with chagrin.

"I gave him Skywalker's name. I'm so sorry. I swear, I had no idea what he was really planning ... but I should have sensed it. If I'd sensed it, she wouldn't be ... He thanked me for the information and started raving about how Anakin was too dangerous to be allowed to live. That's when this girl -- Ryn, I mean -- jumped out of _nowhere_ and drew her lightsaber. He ran and we both pursued, but ... she yelled at me to go get Master Yoda. I left her in pursuit of the rogue Force-sensitive, but ... that was clearly a mistake. By the time Master Yoda and I found her, she was fighting _two_ of them. We arrived just in time to see her tackle the one I'd talked to in the garden and go flying off the back of an airspeeder with him." Ferus shook his head, swallowing hard. "I _saw_ him stab her with his lightsaber, but she kept fighting. She killed him, the one she tackled. Got in one good blow after he thought she was done for. But they were both falling, fast, and I ... I caught up to them in time to cushion her impact with the Force, but it ... it wasn't enough. I _heard_ bones breaking when she hit."

He turned regretful, haunted eyes on Anakin. "I'm sorry, Skywalker. I know ... I know you were close. She kept saying your name, even when the Healers were trying to put her under, even when she couldn't ..." He broke off, choking, and Obi-Wan touched his arm lightly in support.

Anakin was less gentle. "We're _still_ close," he snapped. "Don't talk about her like she's _dead_. Ryn's _not dead,_ and she's not _going_ to die, I won't _let_ her."

Ferus bowed his head, more in acknowledgement of Anakin's fierce pain than in agreement.

Silence fell in the room. And maybe that was why Obi-Wan could hear, now, a soft, weak whisper of a sound.

"...nobi."

From the bed.

"Keh ... no ... bi. K'no ... bi. Kenobi. Ke ... no ..."

Obi-Wan crossed the room in one long stride and put his hand to the girl's cheek, livid with bruises. "Ryn?"

Her eyelids fluttered briefly, but refused to open. "Ana ... kin. Dan ... ger. Danger." Obi-Wan had to strain to pick out the syllables, to hear the weak thread that was Ryn's voice. "Kill ... him. Cho ... sen One. K ... kill him. Fa ... fana ... tics. An ... akin." There were some noises Obi-Wan couldn't decipher, and then, directly into his mind with surprising strength and clarity: _Anakin. Danger. Keep him safe._ Ryn's presence faded from his mind.

On the far side of the bed, a row of indicator lights went dark and a high-pitched alarm signaled that Ryn's vitals had suddenly ceased to register.

Anakin gave a choked cry and flung himself at the bed. "_Ryn!"_

"Anakin, she's --"

"_No!_" Anakin shouted, throwing himself on the the still, battered form. "She's not gone. I can feel her!"

He pushed Obi-Wan aside and gripped Ryn by the shoulders, shaking her. "Ryn! Listen to me! Breathe! You just have to keep breathing ... don't go, Ryn don't go."

Something like a sob choked in Anakin's throat, and Obi-Wan flinched from the rawness of his pain. "Please don't die, Ryn. Just ... take one more breath. _Please._ For me."

He let go her thin shoulders to cradle her face in his hands. "Stay with me, Ryn."

Obi-Wan reached out a hand to Anakin's shoulder, in comfort as much as restraint. He could feel the Force gathering in the boy, filling him ... if Anakin reacted now, in grief, he might well lose control and jeopardize everything he'd worked so hard for ...

A horrible, gurgling, rasping sound erupted from Ryn's throat, down into her chest. Her eyes opened weakly and locked on Anakin's.

The rasping sound came again, with slightly less gurgle, and a mixture of blood and water burst from Ryn's mouth. She didn't have the strength to cough and clear her airways, but the Force stirred, a new gush fountained from Ryn's bloody mouth, and suddenly Obi-Wan realized what Anakin was doing. He was using the Force to clear the settling blood and water so that Ryn's lungs could process air.

There was no possible way that it could work ... but Ryn stubbornly hung on, apparently determined to go down fighting, for Anakin's sake if not her own.

"Let her _go,_ Anakin," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound stern yet compassionate. He could _feel_ Ryn's pain and exhaustion in the Force, her misery even as she struggled for another breath, another heartbeat, another instant of life.

She was going to lose.

And then the Force stirred again, something new, and power welled in Anakin and spilled into Ryn, and with the eyes of the Force Obi-Wan saw him set the full weight of his concentration on her, willing her to live, dragging her cells into action with nothing to draw on but the sheer strength of his determination.

This was wrong. It had to be wrong. It shouldn't even be _possible_. But Ryn's eyes were still locked on Anakin's, burning in that bruised white face, and Anakin stared back, holding onto her with everything he had. "Let her go, Anakin! Let her join the Force."

A disturbance at the door alerted him to the presence of Vokara Che. "Master Kenobi!" she snapped. "Restrain your Padawan. At once!"

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin by the shoulders and pulled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryn's fingers slip between Anakin's, clasping his strong, tanned fingers with her bloodstained ones. His glance flicked to her face in time to see Ryn's eyes fly wide open and her lips move silently, shaping Anakin's name.

He felt the strength of her will in that moment, the power of her simple unwillingness to quit. Her determination to stay, whatever the cost, because Anakin had asked her to.

Obi-Wan had always known Ryn was a beautiful girl. But now he looked at her in the Force, and she was _radiant_, even dying. Even fighting for life when by all rights she should have been gone into the Force minutes, hours ago.

This was what Love looked like, in the Force.

It took his breath away.

Ferus lent his strength to Obi-Wan's and together they hauled Anakin to his feet, away from the bed.

Tears were streaming down Anakin face.

Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen his Padawan cry.

Vokara Che was working with un-Jedi-like haste over Ryn's battered -- but breathing -- body.

Ferus stepped back and looked at the bed as though seeing something new -- but Obi-Wan could not begin to imagine what.

He put an arm around anakin's shoulders ad pressed him tightly, for just a second -- and to hell with Vokara, or Ferus, or anyone else who felt like objecting. "Come, Anakin. We need to give Master Che room to work. And we ought to contact her brother."

It certainly wasn't the Jedi way -- Obi-Wan could only imagine what Master Yoda would have to say about the kind of family attachments Ryn routinely exhibited -- but it seemed like the right thin to do, and it distracted Anakin from his misery.

A little.

He stared dully at Obi-Wan without speaking, but he allowed himself to be led out of the infirmary.

Ferus trailed after them, equally silent.

Obi-Wan made himself keep walking.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Anakin-snugglies by special request, plus no one listens to Ryn and Vokara Che gets twitchy.

Disclaimer: Star Wars and associated worlds/characters are the property of George Lucas. Ryn, Kit, and this piece of fanfiction are entirely my own invention.

Chapter Playlist:

One of Those Days (Joshua Radin)

No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature (The Guess Who)

In Memory of Elizabeth Reed (The Allman Brothers Band)

**CHAPTER THREE**

Outside the infirmary in the spacious hallways of the Temple, Obi-Wan brought them to a halt and asked Ferus whether he were aware of any contact with Ryn's family on Loreth.

Ferus said he hadn't heard of anything like that.

Anakin had been ignoring them both, wrapped in his private suffering, but now Obi-Wan turned to him expectantly and said, "Do you know how to reach him, Anakin?"

_Kit, I want you to meet someone._

He could almost feel the warmth of Ryn's smile, the glow of her affection.

_You're important to me._

Anakin cleared his throat. "I think I remember," he said.

"Then you are the logical choice," Obi-Wan decided. "Go at once to the comm and send a message off-world, to Kittral's home, or ship, or wherever you can find him. Ferus and I will attempt to find Master Yoda and consult with him." Obi-Wan's expression turned thoughtful. "Actually, Ferus, it may be better if you stay at the infirmary, if you think you can keep out o the Healers' way ... just in case Ryn comes around."

"Of course," Ferus murmured, always the model Padawan.

Anakin couldn't stop himself from saying, "It should be me. Ryn knows me. She --"

"And then who would call Kit?" Obi-Wan asked mildly. "No. Go to the comm center, and when you are done, you may report back to the infirmary and relieve Ferus -- with Master Che's permission." His expression hardened. "You did very badly in there, Padawan."

Meaning, of course, that he had lost control of his emotions. Again.

Anakin bowed. "Yes, Master."

He had expected, as someone not recognizably important, to have to wait some time before he was allowed to speak with Kit. But he reached Kit's assistant -- a fit young woman with a lot of light-colored hair and generous cleavage -- almost as soon as he'd been patched through to the Lorethan communications network, and when he gave his name, she said, "Padawan _Skywalker_? Just a minute ..." and the image blurred, faded and then was quickly replaced by a slightly fuzzy image of Ryn's brother.

"Padawan Skywalker," he said, Anakin thought he was squinting slightly. "I apologize for the image quality. I am ... not at home. What can I do for you?"

Anakin shook his head. "Sir -- uh, Your Grace -- are you aware that Ryn has recently been injured?"

Kit's face was unreadable, but his tone was bleak. "I knew she was in trouble," he said. "I could feel it. When did it happen?"

_You could feel it?_ Anakin thought. "Last night," he replied. "Your Grace, I'm afraid her injuries are ... serious."

"I see," Kit said slowly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"We're, uh ... we're still piecing things together," Anakin hedged, not sure how much Kit was supposed to know about the situation. "But it looks as though Ryn stumbled onto a plot to assassinate a Jedi and engaged two of the potential assassins in combat." _It's all my fault. She did it for me._

Kit gave him a searching look, as though he knew there was more Anakin wasn't telling him, like the fact that he was to blame. "I sense that there is more going on here than meets the eye," he said finally. "And I see that it troubles you. But without knowing the situation, there is little I can do to help you." He paused. "Will it make you ... uncomfortable ... or put you in a bad position with your master, if I ask a favor of you?"

"I don't know," Anakin said. "I hope not."

"Well ... it is this," Kit said, frowning. "I ... cannot come right away. Many lives depend on my mission here. I cannot leave, even if Ryn needs me. I would ask you ... act as her next of kin, in my place. Stay with her during recovery, or ... well, if she doesn't make it ... I know Ryn considers you a good friend. I know you'll take care of ... what needs to be done." Kit cleared his throat. "But will this interfere with your Jedi duties?"

_Probably_. "I'm sure Master Kenobi will let me have a little time, at least until you can come yourself." _But he won't like it much. And it's a terrible way to prove I'm not attached._

Kit sighed as though he'd just had a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, Padawan Skywalker. I will join you on Coruscant as soon as I can."

Ryn opened her eyes slowly. The light speared through them and set off alarms in her brain, and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and wrenching her face away from the glare.

A voice called her name.

"Ryn?"

The voice was warm and slightly rough, a hot toddy of a voice. It slide like raw silk along her shattered nerves and stroked something deep inside her to a warm glow.

"Ryn?"

she knew that voice, had heard it in her dreams. She knew the slow warmth it sent spreading through her limbs and the hollow ache of longing it echoed through in her chest.

_Say my name again._

"Ryn, can you hear me?"

_Anakin._

And with recognition came memory and sensation, and Ryn inhaled sharply as pains battered through her everywhere, and she reached out blindly and found her aching fingers gripped in a steady clasp, firm but surprisingly gentle. The hands were like the voice: warm and rough, and as Ryn squeezed weakly back, she tried to say his name but couldn't.

Abruptly there was cool air on the back of her hand where his palm had rested, and then something cold and hard was against her lips.

"Drink this," Anakin's voice said, and Ryn tried, but she felt more spilling across her cheek than down her throat.

She felt herself being lifted, and then Anakin's voice again, so close the vibrations from his mouth actually tickled against her eardrum. "Here."

She sipped again, wetting her throat this time, and she tried to open her eyes and tell him "thank you" but the light was still too bright, and she flinched again and buried her face in Anakin's shoulder.

"Too bright?" Anakin murmured against her hair. She felt a stir, and the glare against her eyelids faded away.

"Better?" he asked her, and Ryn knew he must have used the Force to dim the lights.

She blinked cautiously and nodded, trying to bring Anakin's face into focus.

He brushed her hair back, rubbing one calloused thumb in the hollow of her cheek. "That was quite the nap you took."

Ryn tried to smile. The muscles in her face felt stiff. "How ... long?" she croaked.

Anakin held a cup against her lips -- the same one as before; she recognized the feel -- and watched her drink before he answered.

"Two and a half days."

She grimaced slightly. "The assassins?"

"You killed one. Master Tachi is looking for the other."

He could be anywhere by now.

"The one I killed didn't have much of a chance to pass on his information." Ryn said; but it came out as cracked whisper, and she reached for the cup again.

Anakin held it for her.

"I don't want you worrying about that," he informed her sternly. "You've done enough already -- _and_ worried me half to death. What were you thinking, attacking two of them at once?"

"There weren't two when I attacked," Ryn pointed out; and then she frowned, or tried to. "Are you lecturing me on reckless behavior, Padawan Skywalker?"

Anakin smiled. "Maybe just a little." He touched his fingertips lightly to the sore

spot in her abdomen. "You must be feeling a _lot_ better, if you're up to teasing me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Skywalker."

"Mmm." Ryn could feel his amusement and relief, warm and thick as honey fresh from the comb, gleaming sticky in the sunlight. "I should go tell Master Che that you're awake. Will you be all right?"

_I'd be better if you'd keep touching me._ "Of course."

Gently he disentangled himself and rested Ryn's head on the pillow. "I'll be right back," he whispered.

With Anakin gone, Ryn had considerably less incentive to stay awake -- the hospital room was just not that interesting -- but, mindful of his promise to return soon, she tried to keep her eyes propped open. Being pampered and doted on was not something she wanted to miss, especially if it was going to involve more of that lovely cuddling ... although Ryn could think of a couple of ways even that could be improved. Say, by the removal of several layers of highly unnecessary Jedi clothing. What did the Jedi think they were dressing for anyway, a vacation on Hoth? Ryn was fairly certain that her physical condition had not improved enough to allow for any sort of strenuous activities, but it couldn't hurt to dream.

She amused herself with making a list of potential ways to show her appreciation until Anakin returned.

The look on his face when he stuck his head around the door told her she'd been caught, at least partly. He frowned at her in concern. "Ryn? Are you all right? You feel ... strange."

_You mean like a woman who's been fantasizing about ways to get you naked?_ "I'm fine."

He came closer, still frowning. "Are you sure? You feel ... Oh." Comprehension dawned. "_Oh._"

Anakin looked suddenly nervous, poised on the verge of fleeing.

Ryn offered him a rueful smile. "Come on in, Anakin. I believe I can control myself."

Anakin's self-conscious frown morphed suddenly into his familiar cocky grin. "Are you sure?"

Ryn rolled her eyes; it almost didn't hurt. "Getting easier all the time," she assured him. "Besides, if you can't defend yourself against a woman with three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a fractured pelvis ... maybe you should give up on the whole Jedi thing. It might not be for you."

She saw the blush burn up into his cheeks and raised one hand -- rather stiffly -- against a flash of defensive temper. "Kidding, Anakin. You know I don't question your skills."

The flare in Anakin's aura subsided. "Well, maybe if it comes to it I can wrestle you to the ground."

"Don't tempt me," Ryn murmured, just to see him blush again, without the anger this time. "Come sit down."

He sat in the bedside chair, still a little wary, and Ryn tried not to project raging lust. With the pain making her lightheaded with every breath, it wasn't all that difficult.

A particularly bad twinge made Anakin reach out and touch her hand. "Master Che will be here any minute."

Ryn nodded, too tired to speak, and accepted a few more sips of water from the cup Anakin held once more to her lips.

"You're going to be fine," Anakin said softly, almost crooning. "You'll see." He squeezed her hand lightly. "And your brother Kit should be coming soon."

That made Ryn's brows snap together with a quick stab of pain, but before she could ask any of the questions that sprang to mind, Vokara Che swept in, and all inquiries had to be shunted aside.

"Awake, I see," Che offered.

Ryn nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

_Like stale poodoo._ "Very tired. And my chest hurts, but I believe that is to be excpected. I ... recall your analysis."

Che frowned slightly. "Your broken bones should be almost healed by now. I wonder if your Healing trance has been deep enough." She pressed a hand to Ryn's forehead and closed her eyes, head cocked as if listening.

"Hm," she said, lifting her hand and opening her eyes. "Your Healing trance is there, and I can tell that your bones are mostly knitted, though they will not achieve their former density for another day or two ... but it seems that you still have some distance to go before the injuries are sufficiently healed to no longer be sore. Possibly your control of the Force is not great enough to manage faster recuperation, or perhaps your injuries are simply so extensive that your body cannot channel the energy to heal them faster. I confess, I do not know the answer. I have never worked on a Force-sensitive who was not a Jedi before, and I have seldom seen a patient live with injuries as extensive as yours."

_That makes me feel good,_ Ryn thought sarcastically. Aloud she said, "How long until I am fit to leave the infirmary?"

Che frowned again. "Difficult to say," she admitted. "You live alone, unlike Padawans your age, so I feel you must be recovered sufficiently to care for your own needs safely before--"

"Master Che," Anakin interrupted. "My master and I will be happy to watch over Miss Orun, if it lets her leave the infirmary a few days sooner. Release her into Master Obi-Wan's care."

Ryn laid a hand on Anakin's arm and squeezed lightly, then winced as the motion revealed a few more sore spots. "I am not at all sure that Master Kenobi will share your perspective," she reminded him gently. "If I am likely to need continued medical care, then the infirmary would seem the safest place for me. And you and Master Kenobi need to concentrate on finding out who is behind this assassination plot. Taking care o me will only slow you down."

A shadow crossed Anakin's face. "The Council has chosen not to assign us to the investigation," he said, clearly striving for a neutral tone. "They feel we are ... too close to the problem, that we won't be objective."

"Oh." Ryn blinked, trying to assimilate this new and rather baffling information. "That's ... I'm sorry, Anakin. That must be frustrating. I'm sure you want to be ... more active in the pursuit."

"A Jedi must not be controlled by his emotions," Anakin intoned. It sounded like a recitation -- from Obi-Wan, probably. He forced a smile. "Master Tachi is very competent. I'm sure she will get to the bottom of it soon."

Ryn sensed that he was putting on his best "Jedi face" for Master Che, so she didn't push. "I'm sure that's true. But I still don't think Master Kenobi will want a houseguest. I'll be fine here until I can be released to my own quarters. It won't be long."

"Actually," Vokara Che said, "I would feel much better about releasing you into the care of a Jedi, especially given your relative youth and inexperience. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, but you could leave as early as tomorrow morning, with Master Kenobi's cooperation."

_Fine, ignore everything I say._ Ryn frowned and tried again. "I don't wish to be an inconvenience," she tried again. "If I'm not being too much trouble, I don't mind waiting here. Honestly."

Vokara Che twitched her headtails, but Ryn hadn't spent enough time around Twi'leks to interpret the gesture.

"Anakin," the Healer said. "Go get your master. I'd like to consult with him about this matter."

Ryn would have liked to sigh, but her chest hurt too much, so she settled for a grimace of resignation as Anakin headed for the door, already breaking into a jog.

_That boy never walks when he can run._


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Obi-Wan and Ryn have a conversation. There is, sadly, no Anakin yumminess. I'm saving that for the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Not even a little, not even at all. But Ryn is all mine. :)

Chapter Playlist:

Viva la Vida (Coldplay)

**CHAPTER FOUR**

She must have dozed, because the next thing she knew, Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting in the bedside chair. Ryn blinked rapidly and tried to push herself higher on the pillows.

"Master Kenobi," she croaked, and Obi-Wan handed her the cup Anakin had held earlier.

While she drank, Obi-Wan looked her over with a friendly twinkle in his eye. "You don't look so much the worse for wear."

"Your eyes can deceive you, don't trust them," Ryn muttered, and Obi-Wan's mouth quirked in a wry smile that was as close to laughter as he usually came.

"It is ... good to see you alive," he said gently.

Obi-Wan was treading perilously close to admitting to emotions, and Ryn knew it didn't come easily to him.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I'm just glad that you and Anakin are all right, for now." She sipped water again. "Has Master Tachi made any progress in her investigation?"

"She is hunting the spy's companion."

_That means no._ "I feel certain that those two were only part of a larger group. Has anyone questioned the Padawan who was talking to one of them in the garden?"

"Ferus Olin," Obi-Wan supplied. "Master Yoda debriefed him fully as soon as you were delivered to the Healers. And I believe that part of the reason Master Tachi was assigned this mission is because she is Padawan Olin's master."

Ryn hesitated. "That makes sense. But it must be frustrating, even for a Jedi, to have to wait and rely on someone else to conduct the investigation."

"The Jedi way teaches us to acknowledge our feelings, then release them into the Force."

Ryn sipped. "A difficult discipline."

There was something Kenobi wanted to say; he just wasn't saying it. Something held him back. Ryn took another sip of water and waited, eyes scanning the bare little room. _No pressure,_ she thought at him. _Take your time, Obi-Wan._

After a few uncertain minutes, the Jedi reached out and carefully took her bandaged right hand, the one that wasn't wrapped around her drinking cup.

"I want you to know," he said slowly, "that I appreciate what you did ... out there ... for my Padawan. Anakin might be in the gravest danger right now, if it were not for your sacrifice. Thank you."

"It was my duty and my privilege," Ryn said, "but you are welcome nonetheless. But, Obi-Wan ... I urge you to remember that Anakin may _still_ be in danger -- both of you. Those fanatics are still out there, and my heart tells me they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. It is like a holy war for them. Their end can justify any means in their eyes. That makes them very dangerous beings. Do not underestimate the danger."

"I won't," Obi-Wan said. He paused. "Ferus seems to believe they were looking for the Chosen One. Do you think they could have anything to do with the Yinang situation we encountered with Evinne?"

"It does seem like an extraordinary coincidence," Ryn said. "But if either of them wore the symbol, I did not see it. And why would the Yinang want Anakin dead? Doesn't the Chosen One have to be alive to fulfill the prophecy?"

Obi-Wan paled, just perceptibly. "I have always assumed so," he said cautiously. "But I don't suppose the prophecy actually says as much."

Ryn felt her jaw tighten and worked it loose. _Jedi._ "Look, Obi-Wan, the simplest solution is usually the best. So let's assume that Anakin needs to be alive in order to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force, since that is the simplest explanation." She waited for Obi-Wan's nod, which she thought looked vaguely relieved. "So: why would a group dedicated to the pursuit of balance in all things want to see the Chosen One killed?" Obi-Wan didn't answer, frowning. "The assassin I followed tld me that Anakin was too dangerous to live. He said, 'you think balance is a good thing?' That doesn't sound like Yinang thinking to me. I think we're dealing with a separate group."

"I can't fault your reasoning," Obi-Wan said. "But it still seems too much of a coincidence to believe. My instincts tell me there is a connection."

Ryn nodded. Obi-Wan was a strong Jedi, with well-tuned instincts; it was entirely possible that he was sensing something that had escaped her. "Have you told Master Tachi this?"

"No. I didn't want to prejudice her investigation."

Ryn felt her mouth drop open and closed it carefully. "It seems like the kind of information she could put to good use," she said at last. "Perhaps ... a joint meditation?"

"You may be right," Obi-Wan said. "I'll consider it. In the meantime ... I didn't actually come down here to talk shop. Master Che tells me that you could leave her care as early as tomorrow, if you were to stay with Anakin and me for a day or two."

Ryn winced. "Yes, I know Anakin put that idea into her head. But, really, Master Kenobi, unless the Healers need the bedspace for other patients, I feel much better staying ere. It's the best medical facility on Coruscant, or so I'm told. And Jedi quarters aren't exactly spacious: you and Anakin have little enough room as it is."

"We'll be fine." Obi-Wan looked down at her hands. "It would make Anakin feel better if you came home with us."

_He's obsessing,_ Ryn thought, _and I'm pretty sure this is one of those things you're supposed to be training him not to do._

Aloud she said, "I'm not sure his compulsive need to help is healthy. He really believes he can fix anything."

Obi-Wan's eyes darkened slightly. "The galaxy will take that from him soon enough."

_Obi-Wan, you are attached._ But that was one of the things she could never say to obi-Wan. Sometimes the veil he held between himself and the truth was the only thing that let him operate.

Ryn had learned a lot about the Jedi lately, and not all of it was comforting.

"I'll come," she said. "But you're in charge of keeping Anakin in rein."

Obi-Wan smiled at her, relief in his eyes. "I'll do my best."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Anakin is yummy, Ryn opens up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This is a shame, because Anakin would be shirtless much more often if I did. In the meantime, I do own Ryn and this story, and I am taking them for a little ride ...

Chapter Playlist:

Love You 'Til the End (the Pogues)

The Way I Am (Ingrid Michaelson)

Now We Are Free (Lisa Gerrard)

Better (Regina Spektor)

Feedback: Please, please, please?

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Anakin smiled encouragingly as he slid an arm around Ryn's waist. "We'll go slow and take it easy," he assured her. "Lean on me all you need to."

"Thank you, Anakin, but leaning anywhere actually hurts." She sensed the frown before it could appear on his forehead and said, "I'll be fine. We'll just go slow, like you said."

"That's right," Obi-Wan agreed. "There's no rush. As Mater Yoda would say, 'always now, even eternity will be'."

Ryn's lips quirked briefly. "I hope it doesn't take _that_ long."

"Patience, you must have, young one," Anakin instructed her.

He was rewarded by Ryn's low chuckle and Obi-Wan's half-teasing, "A little respect for your elders, Padawan."

"Very elder," Anakin murmured in Ryn's ear.

"Ryn snorted and pinched his arm. Obi-Wan adopted a slightly scolding, what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look.

Life was good.

They got Ryn settled in Anakin's room without too much trouble, though it did seem to take something close to eternity to get there.

No one was more troubled by the delay than Ryn herself, who was used to pacing quick-footed about the Temple precincts.

"I could have slept on the couch," she murmured when they led her to Anakin's bed.

"Nonsense," Obi-Wan insisted, fluffing the single (rather flat) pillow. "Do you think he would have slept a wink with you out there? Not that the bed will be much better, mind you. I don't doubt that Anakin has destroyed the mattress with all that flopping about."

Ryn glanced at Anakin as he leaned past her to turn back the covers. "You do a lot of flopping?"

Anakin scowled at his master before answering. "I'm not a heavy sleeper."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ryn murmured in reply.

Despite her good humor, Anakin could see the signs of stress and fatigue on her face. He slid an arm around her and eased her gently down to lie on the bed and covered her carefully with a worn blanket of soft brown bantha wool. She felt thinner in his arms; an effect, probably of the intensive healing process.

"There you go," he said softly, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. "Snug as a bug in a run -- that's what my mom always said."

Ryn smiled, just a little. This close, he could feel her aches, the tiredness that went all the way to her marrow. "I've never heard that before. My mother used to say, 'snug as a wampa in its cave'. I think perhaps I like yours better."

"Get some rest," Obi-Wan advised, putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Come, Anakin, we must let our patient take a nap."

Night had set over the Temple and the hour was growing late, but Obi-Wan found himself reluctant to announce bedtime. There was something strangely ... familial ... about their after-dinner interactions, like a glimpse into the kind of life he might have had if he hadn't been born Force-sensitive, if he hadn't learned to be a Jedi. He didn't regret his life in service to the Order ... but for a little while, this was nice.

The three of them had eaten supper together, talking animatedly (Anakin), quietly (Ryn), and politely (Obi-Wan), and then Ryn and Obi-Wan had played a quiet word game while Anakin cleared the table. Ryn gave him a run for his money; her Basic was getting better. Now she was reclining on the couch with her long legs draped over Anakin's lap, which was tempting Anakin into tickling her bare feet whenever he thought she might not be paying attention, which was pretty often since she had a datapad in front of her face that she was using to drill him on Chandrilan etiquette. Apparently she'd found the thing lying around and decided that Anakin needed to become familiar with its contents.

Anakin was being a good sport about it.

As Obi-Wan watched, Anakin missed another question. Ryn toed him lazily under the ribs and said, "Obi-Wan? Can you do better?"

"Ah ... what was the question?"

'If you attend a casual dinner party with both your younger brother's wife and your older brother's wife, which woman is most closely related to you?"

Obi-Wan blinked. "Aren't they the same?"

"No." Ryn tapped the datapad with a long finger. "Your older brother's wife receives your deference, while your younger brother's wife is meant to receive your protection. But on Chandrila, that question is a joke, and the right answer is, 'your mother!'"

"Hilarious, I'm sure," Obi-Wan said drily. "Any other delightful pieces of entertainment in there?"

"I don't think so," Ryn answered, "although I heard a good one the other day. How many Jedi does it take to repair a light fixture?"

Obi-Wan set down his teacup. "I've no idea."

"Three," Ryn said, and ticked them off on her fingers. "One to change the bulb, one to levitate him to the ceiling, and one to meditate on the value of partnership."

"I've heard better jokes," Anakin commented.

"Well, I don't think the creche is going to become a hotspot for standup comedy," Ryn conceded. "But at least the younglings know how to laugh. That's more than I can say for Master Windu. Or most other Jedi, now that I think about it."

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan with a cheeky grin. "Do you know how to laugh, Master?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "When the occasion calls for it, Padawan. I can't say that I find Ryn's material terribly amusing."

"Hey," Ryn said, waving the datapad. "Don't blame me. I didn't make the jokes. I'm just telling them."

Anakin pinched her for that. "You remember telling Master Windu about the laughing cure?"

"I was trying to forget," Ryn said, tapping her way down the datapad again. "I'm not sure he's forgiven me yet."

"What's this?" Obi-Wan asked, looking from Ryn to Anakin and back again.

"Long story," Ryn said quickly. "You had to be there. Tell me about Twi-lek women instead. Are they as fantastic as this article claims?"

"What article?" Anakin said, momentarily distracted, and Ryn held up the datapad to show a picture o a half-naked female Twi-lek poised provacatively in the middle of what might have been a dance floor.

"The article says they are considered the most attractive female humanoids in the galaxy," Ryn said, "but that has actually be a liability for them. Members of their own species routintely sell young females into slavery off-world. It says here that 'Twi'lek females are highly prized as plesaure workers, often unpaid, because of their agility and perceived sensuality, which may be partly due to the obviously tactile and sensitive nature of their twin lekku.'"

"That's outrageous!" anakin exclaimed, eyes flashing in what Obi-Wan had come to recognize as his Temper Tantrum Warning Signal.

"It certainly is," Ryn agreed. "But what may be even sadder is that many female Twi-lek who escape slavery flee to Loreth. Ryloth is a Republic world, but despite the Republic's anti-slavery laws, they fear recapture. And, of course, the journey to Loreth puts them dangerously close to Hutt territory. The Republic isn't very active in enforcing some of its humanitarian policies."

"the Jedi could end slavery if they tried," Anakin said, his voice lowering dangerously. "They _should_."

Ryn nodded. "As an arm of the Galactic Senate, the Jedi are bound to respect the autonomy of individual systems, and often prevented from acting because of political concerns The Agri-Corps, actually, does more. They are under less scrutiny. A lot of indentured servants have escaped to Loreth that way. But I'm afraid our efforts to disrupt the Hutt slave trade have met with little success."

"The Lorethan government has been taking steps against the Hutt slave trade?" Obi-Wan said, surprised. "I had not heard that."

Ryn scowled at him. "The best covert operation are the ones you don't hear about," she said. "But actually all the anti-slavery missions have been conducted through the Jade Temple. They are limited in scope because we haven't been able to figure out a way to disable the AEDs from a distance."

"AEDs?" Obi-Wan queried.

"Anti-Escape Devices," Anakin said, the line of his jaw tightening, and Obi-Wan remembered the dreams he used to have when he was younger, that the transmitter was somehow still active and he would explode from the inside.

"Right," Ryn said. "Anyway, we have to get close, undetected, and work fast. And even then, sometimes the trigger is just too sensitive and ... well, it's not pretty."

"You've been on those mission?" Anakin asked eagerly, and Ryn shook her head.

"Only twice: to NarShadaa, both times. I know you're thinking about your mother, but I don't have any information about her, Anakin. I'm sorry."

"But there _are_ missions to Tatooine?" Anakin pressed her. "That's what Evinne was doing in Mos Eisley, wasn't it?"

Ryn's lips compressed unhappily, but she nodded. "None of the former slaves I worked with at the Temple ever mentioned a son who'd left with the Jedi. I'd have remembered that."

"She might not have said anything," Anakin insisted, his agitation rising. "You might have missed her."

"It's possible," Ryn said. "I don't think it's likely that we ever crossed paths. But here." She leaned forward, not quite hiding a grimace of pain, and held up her right hand, palm outward. "You can at least search my memories. If she did escape to Loreth, there's a good chance I would have seen her at the Temple."

Obi-Wan hesitated, torn between an impulse to head off what probably was a foolhardy venture and his curiosity to see how Ryn was going to make this work.

Anakin, as usual, only knew how to fly full speed ahead. He reached out and pressed his hand flat against Ryn's and dove in.

Obi-Wan watched them mirror each other, breathing in unison, eyes closed, faces tight with concentration. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a perfect display of unity in the Force. It was breathtaking.

The door chimed.

Ryn and Anakin didn't react; they were both too centered in the Force, and in each other, at the moment for that.

But nobody would be calling here at this hour without a pressing reason.

Obi-Wan got up and hit the door release, to reveal Padawan Ferus Olin, looking a slightly less perfect version of calm than usual.

"Master Kenobi?"

"Padawan Olin. Good to see you." Obi-Wan refused to glance back over his shoulder to see what the other two were doing.

"I ... one of the Healers' apprentices told me that Miss Orun had been released into your care."

"She is here, yes."

"I was wondering ... is she sleeping? May I speak with her?"

"She and Anakin are completing a joint meditation," Obi-Wan said, figuring that was the best way to describe the psychic exchange taking place in his living room. "I doubt they'll be much longer. You are welcome to come in and wait."

"Yes -- yes, thank you, Master Kenobi." Ferus bowed with less than his usual grace and entered the living space as though trying to take up as little of it as possible.

On the couch, Ryn and Anakin were still linked, still focused. Then, as Obi-Wan watched, Ryn broke the rhythm of their breathing with a soft sigh and relaxed her fingers against Anakin's, loosening their skin-to-skin connection.

Anakin took a second longer to come back to himself. He blinked, released the spell that held Ryn's eyes closed, and breathed in slowly. "I'm sorry," he murmured, eyes dark as they searched hers. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine." Ryn's skin glistened with sweat, as though she'd been performing a kata, instead of sitting still on the couch; but the smile she gave Anakin looked tired but happy.

Her glow dimmed a little as she looked at him, and she reached out to touch him on the arm. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you find your mother," she said softly.

"That's all right," Anakin mumbled; but Obi-Wan knew that wasn't really true, even if, for a Jedi, it should have been.

"Ryn," he said, breaking the intimacy of the scene. "You have a visitor."

Ryn turned in Obi-Wan's direction, blinking in confusion.

"Padawan Olin," she greeted Ferus, getting to her feet a little gingerly. "What can I do for you?"

"I ... well, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

Obi-Wan saw the puzzlement flicker across Ryn's face, but she quickly recovered.

"Quite comfortable, thank you. I am being spoiled rotten here."

"Because," Ferus said, forging ahead with more determination than finesse, "if you find things a bit crowded with the three of you, you could come with me. Master Tachi is away this evening, investigating. You'd all have more room."

On the couch, Anakin stiffened. Obi-Wan caught Ryn's slight gesture, hardly a flick of her fingers, that had him settling back against the cushions, only partly mollified.

"That is a very generous offer, Padawan Olin," Ryn said politely. "I thank you for your kindness. But as Master Kenobi was reached an understanding with Vokara Che, I think I should continue to uphold it. And the overcrowding is not so bad for me -- though I fear Padawan Skywalker has been banished to the couch."

"Yes; I'd heard you two were close," Ferus said, as though that were relevant. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Ryn said. "But I thank you."

"Very well. If you ... if you think of anything I can do for you, will you let me know?"

"You may count on it," Ryn affirmed.

"I want -- I want to make things right."

"I know. You're a good man, Olin. Decent. I am certain the Force will give you the chance to atone."

"Yes ... well ... all right. I'll leave you, then."

"Rest well."

"And you." Ferus started for the door, remembered whose apartment he was in, and managed to toss off two jerky bows before hastening out.

Ryn stood chewing her lip refletively for a moment before cocking her head at Obi-Wan. "Is it just me, or was that damn strange?"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Ryn has a bad dream. Anakin is yummier than Caramel Butter Pecan on a spoon.

Disclaimer: Guess what, ya'll? I still don't own Star Wars! Darn! But I own Ryn, and I think I'll keep her. We share a mutual appreciation of Anakin's all-around tastiness.

Review replies:

Signed reviews have received personal responses, but I want to say thank you again!

The Random Reader: Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Everybody: I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

Chapter Playlist:

Celtic Heart (Russ Landau)

Fell in Love with a Boy (Joss Stone)

**CHAPTER SIX**

Anakin snapped into consciousness, body tensing on the sofa as he stretched out with his feelings, trying to identify the thing that had awakened him.

There was no sense of danger, but the still semi-darkness was broken by the sound of muffled whimpering.

Anakin rose silently and followed the noise to the doorway of his room and looked in.

Ryn lay on her back, eyes tightly shut, but in the glow from the window, where light from Coruscant's vague dawn filtered in, Anakin could see tears glistening on her cheeks, leaking from beneath her closed lids. As he stood uncertainly in the doorway, she made a quiet sound of distress, and a hard tremor shook her body.

Anakin stepped forward and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, feeling out of his depth. Jedi didn't have nightmares -- not that they admitted, anyway -- and it had been a long time since he had had his mom to wake him from a bad dream. Hestitantly, he reached out and touched his friend's shoulder. "Ryn?"

She didn't respond, so he tried again, more forcefully. "Ryn? Wake up. It's me, it's Anakin. Ryn, please ..."

Ryn woke with a sharp gasp, her eyes flying open, and jack-knifed to a sitting position as though her spine had been springloaded.

"You're alive," she whispered, and threw herself into his arms. "You're _alive._"

"Yeah, I am," Anakin agreed, putting his arms around her and patting her hair.

Ryn's tears were damp against his bare chest. "I dreamed you were dead." Her voice cracked. "Anakin, I was so afraid."

"It was just a dream," Anakin said, but Ryn shook her head against his shoulder, smearing tears.

"Some of it was real. The killing field back home. All those dead faces." She shuddered in his arms. "Only this time, every face I saw was you." She broke off in a sob, shaking, and Anakin held her closer, touching hesitant kisses to the top of her head.

"Shh," he murmured, his breath stirring her hair. "I'm fine. I'm right here."

Ryn's arms around him tightened, pressing closer. "I know," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're all right." She shuddered again. "We will find the people who want you dead. We _will_ stop this, Anakin. I promise you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Jedi powers may not be enough."

"I was tough before I was a Jedi," Anakin reminded her. The Jedi had taught him how to harness his power, it was true -- but Tatooine had taught him how to survive.

He felt Ryn's shaky smile. "I guess that's true." She sighed and eased her grip a little. "I just wish you could be a little more safe and a little less tough, that's all."

Anakin shrugged, almost dislodging her, and then held her a little tighter to make up for it. "I'm a Jedi. It's my job to face danger."

"I know," Ryn said, pulling back a little more and reaching for his hands. "But I'm your friend. It's my job to take care of you."

"You can take a vacation," Anakin said. "I'm going to be fine." He could still feel her fear, like a hand around her throat, choking her. "I promise."

Ryn looked up at him, her eyes bright even in the darkness. "You can't promise that. No one can."

"I am," Anakin insisted firmly, and Ryn dropped her eyes.

"Just be careful, all right?"

"I will," Anakin promised her, squeezing her hands. They felt thinner than they should have, more fragile, and he was reminded painfully how much her recovery had taken out of her. It was normal for Force-healing to cause patients to lose weight, as the technique forced the body to convert its reserves to energy rapidly, but Ryn's injuries had been extensive, and she hadn't exactly been carrying a lot of extra weight before ...

"Do you think you could get a little more sleep?" he asked her softly, watching Coruscant's brightening sky over her shoulder.

Ryn shook her head, untucking a little to rest her chin on his shoulder. "Not right now. Maybe I'll read a little. I saw you had a datapad on Corellian history ..."

"No reading," Anakin told her, fluffing up the single pillow and easing her back onto it. "Lie here and try to get some rest, and I'll just be one room away."

Ryn's lips quirked. "Has anyone ever told you that you were bossy, Master Skywalker?"

"You're the first." Anakin brushed his fingers against her cheek, almost a kiss. "Rest."

Ryn slipped out of the 'fresher and tiptoed back to Anakin's room. She'd fallen asleep again, after he went back to the couch, and this time her sleep had been too brief, but mercifully untroubled, and she felt better for it.

She stopped in the doorway. Anakin was waiting for her on the bed, his face alight with an expectant smile.

"What's this?"

Anakin held up a loaded tray. "_This,_ milady, is breakfast in bed."

A closer examination revealed that the tray held a plate of buttered toast, a bowl of brightly colored fruit, and two glasses of blue milk.

Something caught at Ryn's throat, and she realized that she was crying again, uncharacteristically emotional.

"Oh, Anakin," she said, finding her voice with difficulty. "You didn't have to --" but anakin was busily plumping the pillow, and paid her no mind.

"If milady will take her place," he said, balancing the tray with the Force in the midair so that he could use both hands to hold the blanket.

Ryn stifled a laugh and crawled in, settling back against the headboard with the pillow behind her as Anakin brought the blanket up to tuck about her waist.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Obi-Wan has a misunderstanding, and the stories of two painful childhoods are exchanged.

Disclaimer: Breaking news! I do not own Star Wars! Ryn Orun, Loreth, and Thorun are all mine, however. I am not receiving monetary compensation for this fic, which means that I am, sadly, still broke. Send me feedback to ease my pain.

Review replies:

The Random Reader: Thanks for reviewing! I'm sorry the last chapter was so short. I like to make a chapter break where there's a mood/content shift, rather than a simple POV shift, and sometimes it just works out that way. In answer to your question: yes and no. Gravity and Freefall are both part of a much longer story arc that I have planned into the Rebellion Era. Gravity itself won't go into the period covered by AOTC, for example ... but the sequels will get there eventually. So keep reading!

Chapter Playlist:

Sweet Lullaby (Deep Forest)

Bent (Matchbox 20)

Running Up That Hill (Placebo)

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Obi-Wan woke with a groan. He had slept reasonably well, despite the concerns that tried to edge into his mind -- for example, that someone was out to kill his Padawan, and that his intentions of getting some distance between Anakin and Ryn had somehow gotten so far off course that she was actually sleeping in the next room. But he had had odd dreams, and despite the hours of unconsciousness, he felt unrested. The chrono, however, told him that he had no business lying in bed, so he threw his legs over the side and got up.

And froze.

On the other side of the narrow hallway, he heard soft laughter. In Anakin's room.

Instead of making straight for the refresher, as he had planned, Obi-Wan crossed to Anakin's door and hit the release.

The beige plasteel slid back to reveal Ryn and Anakin sitting on the bed, facing each other over a tray of toast and fruit, laughing.

Anakin turned to him, a piece of fruit dripping purple juice through his fingers, still smiling, as Ryn, her mouth full, waved a greeting with a piece of toast.

"Master," Anakin said. "I didn't know you were up. I left you some breakfast, on the ..." His voice trailed off as he sensed his Master's displeasure. "Master Obi-Wan?" he asked uncertainly.

Ryn demonstrated some presence of mind by wrapping a napkin around Anakin's hand to catch the sticky juice. "We probably woke him, Anakin. Force knows I've been laughing my head off."

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said, apparently accepting Ryn's proffered explanation. "We were just talking. I was telling Ryn some stories about Watto --"

Obi-Wan's brows jerked upward before he could stop them, and all his easing suspicions leap back to life. "About _Watto?_'"

Anakin _never_ talked about Tatooine -- anything about Tatooine. It was the unwritten rule of their relationship. He'd wanted to, in the beginning; he'd wanted to talk about his mother. But as time went by and he began to understand that missing his mother was something the Jedi Order could never tolerate, Tatooine had become the locked door behind Anakin's eyes, the place Obi-Wan would never trespass.

Sleeping next door to Anakin's nightmares had told him everything he'd never wanted to know about growing up on Tatooine.

But Ryn was nodding, her grin -- always a little reluctant, even now that they'd grown to know each other a bit -- lighting her face. "I can't believe you swiped that converter," she said, actually giggling. "How come he never caught you?"

"He must have guessed I did it," Anakin conceded, licking his fingers, a gesture that clearly fascinated his companion. "But calling me on it would mean admitting he'd been outsmarted by a six-year-old slave. Watto had too much pride."

"Good story," Ryn approved, looking as though she were thinking about having Anakin for breakfast instead of her fruit and toast. "But I'll bet Master Kenobi knows a few that won't flatter you so well." She smiled at Obi-Wan, obviously trying to be friendly, cracking her reserve a little. "How about it, Master Kenobi? Want to share some of Anakin's embarrassing childhood stories?"

It all sounded innocent enough -- except for the longing looks Ryn kept shooting Anakin when she thought he wasn't looking, but she seemed to be restraining herself from anything more active -- but Obi-Wan couldn't forget the sound of that breathless, delighted laughter. It had sounded so ... _sensual._

_Maybe I'm just paranoid._

Obi-Wan hovered just inside the doorway, uncertain, probing the Force for clues.

Anakin tried to help him out. "You can tell her about trying to teach me to swim," he offered. "That was pretty bad."

That was a generous offer, coming from a boy who could hardly stand to be tweaked; Obi-Wan assumed his Padawan's resistance to even good-natured teasing derived somehow from the years before Obi-Wan had known him, one of the less obvious scars left by his childhood. He had a feeling the mockery in Anakin's early life hadn't been meant in fun.

For just a second, he resented this newcomer for being the one to loosen the tight knot of reticence inside _his_ Padawan. It should have been him. He should have been the one to coax open Anakin's defenses, the one to make him finally feel safe, the one to be invited in ...

But he'd had six years, and he hadn't done any of that. After all this time, he still hadn't quite earned Anakin's trust. His respect, yes. His admiration, certainly. Even, Obi-Wan knew and didn't want to know, his love. But he hadn't earned his Padawan's trust: not the sure knowledge that he could say whatever he was thinking, be completely himself, because Obi-Wan would never reject him, never turn away.

Ryn had.

And his resentment was just a reaction to his own failure.

He said, "Possibly I shouldn't have tried to teach you to swim so _soon_ ..."

It had been years ago, probably less than a month since he'd begun Anakin's training, and Obi-Wan, overwhelmed by the boy's quiet misery -- Anakin never complained about it, not even once, but Obi-wan knew he was lonely and frightened and unhappy, and that he woke crying almost every night -- had wanted very badly to show his Padawan something _fun_ about life in the Temple. Any other Jedi could have scampered off to play with his creche-mates; but Anakin had no creche-mates, which was part of the problem. So Obi-Wan, well aware of his new Padawan's fascination with water in any form, had resolved to teach him how to swim.

He'd led Anakin down to one of the Temple pools, not too much deeper than Anakin's blonde little head, and waded around with him until Anakin overcame enough of his initial unease at being in so much water to say, "I'm ready, Master."

Floating seemed easier than swimming, so Obi-Wan had laid Anakin on his back in the water and held his arms beneath him for support as they drifted deeper together.

Anakin had taken to this, as to most physical tasks, with an ease that made it seem to come naturally, and so Obi-Wan had taken his arms away and stirred the water with a gentle push of the Force that drew Anakin away, into deeper water.

Obi-Wan had meant to encourage Anakin to slowly open his eyes and see how well he was doing -- he had mastered floating in less than a morning! But it didn't work out that way. Before Obi-Wan gave Anakin the planned nudge in the Force, the Padawan looked up, smiling broadly, to say something to him, found that his Master was not where he was supposed to be, and panicked, with the result that he floundered and began to sink.

Obi-Wan could still remember the moment of shocked inaction as he'd seen the pool close over Anakin's thrashing. He'd kicked off the bottom and swum to his Padawan's aim, but Anakin had almost drowned them both in his terrified flailing. Obi-Wan had had to fight him all the way to the edge of the pool, where he heaved them both over the side and pounded copious amounts of burning, chemical-treated water out of Anakin's lungs.

When he could breathe again -- which took a lot longer than Obi-Wan would have liked -- Anakin had looked up at him with fear and mistrust in his now-watery blue eyes.

_You weren't there,_ he'd whispered in the Force, although Obi-Wan wasn't sure he'd meant to project the thought. And Obi-Wan, equal parts guilt for pushing Anakin too hard and relief at not becoming the first Master ever to lose his Padawan _inside_ the Temple, could only look at him, helpless, and answer, _I'm sorry._

"So can you swim now?" Ryn asked, after listening to Obi-Wan's (heavily edited) account.

Anakin shook his head. "I think Master Obi-Wan was afraid I'd finish drowning us both if given half a chance. We never went near the pool again."

"That's a shame," Ryn said. "With a bit of a gentler introduction, I bet you'd like swimming. It's very freeing."

"I take it you swim?" Obi-Wan said, and Ryn nodded.

"Since before I can remember. The seawater near my home is rough and cold, but there are rivers nearby where it's safe to swim." Her lips quirked, remembering. "Sometimes warriors will swim in the sea for a dare. Thorun did it, when I was very small."

"Who is Thorun?" Obi-Wan asked.

An echo of pain leaked into the Force before Ryn could suppress it. "He was my father's steward," she answered, studying a piece of fruit. "He's dead now."

Obi-Wan saw Anakin cover her hand with his, but he didn't protest; it seemed somehow petty in the face of Ryn's muted sorrow.

"The war?" Anakin asked quietly, and Ryn nodded, pulling her hand away to fold her napkin with more care than it deserved.

"Not in battle," she said, her voice soft but even. "And to say _the war_ ... it's like saying that there was a clearly defined period with obvious enemies. Us and them. But the only time that happened was during the Chiss Incursion, two years ago. Anyway, Thorun ... it was the Trade Federation that time. They launched some kind of shapeshifting droid that could fly, overwhelmed the outer defenses in a surprise attack, and headed straight down the gravity well for the Orun shipyards -- which meant they had some damn good intel.

"We didn't keep starfighters up there, at the big house; we had a few farther north, but they were already being called away to the space battle that was really just a front. Men with blasters -- and most of us didn't even have those -- on the ground can't repel a determined attack from the sky.

"It was over quickly. Thorun and I were the only survivors of the assault -- he'd been watching me that day, keeping me out from underfoot because I was too young to be of any real use, except running messages. When the second wave of droids hit us, he grabbed me and ran for the cover of the forest. In the shelter of the trees, the droids couldn't find us, and though they incinerated the first stones' throw of forest, we were moving fast. What I didn't know was then was that Thorun had been wounded; he'd taken a piece of shrapnel to the kidney in the first volley, and he was bleeding to death. I supposed I hadn't learned how to gauge the amount of blood a man could lose, back then, and it seemed to be everywhere that day.

"By the time relief arrived, the big house was nothing but a smoking crater and most of the droids had already cleared out. Thorun handed me off and told the troops to take me to my brother. He was dead within the hour."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, and meant it.

Ryn lifted her shoulders in a tense little shrug. "He died well."

That thought seemed to give her some comfort, so Obi-Wan chose not to probe further. Instead, he said, "I expect I ought to go eat my breakfast. And, Anakin, don't you have a lesson with Master Nu this morning?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin said dutifully, rising and picking up the tray. "I won't be late."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Ryn has ominous news. Obi-Wan gets maudlin.

Disclaimer: Oh, crap. Star Wars is still, despite my best (if somewhat lethargic) efforts, NOT MINE. But Ryn is, and I think I'll keep her. No money is being made hereabouts.

Review replies:

The Random Reader: Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

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Chapter Playlist:

Hallelujah (Jeff Buckley)

Requiem for a Tower Mvt II (Corner Stone Cues)

I Still Have a Soul (Epic Score)

The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Obi-Wan walked Ryn to her appointment with Vokara Che, evidently feeling that she couldn't manage to get there on her own. Anakin, meanwhile, had left to complete a lengthy literary assignment with no noticeable enthusiasm.

Alone in the corridor with the older Jedi, Ryn tried again to offer her apologies for waking him prematurely. "I'm so sorry for making so much noise this morning, Master Kenobi. It was disrespectful of me to disturb your rest. Anakin was much quieter, I promise you."

"There is no need to apologize," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I completely overreacted this morning." He hesitated. "I overheard the two of you ... laughing ... and I confess that I entirely misinterpreted the situation. The blame is mine."

Ryn shook her head to clear it, but only succeeded in making herself dizzy. "I don't understand," she said, feeling herself lost in this conversation. "What ..." She let her voice trail helplessly away, hardly knowing how to frame her question.

Fortunately, Kenobi seemed to know what she was trying to ask. "I believed the two of you were ... engaging in intimacy unbecoming to a Jedi."

He was being oblique, but Ryn knew what he meant. "I didn't realize Jedi had to be celibate?"

There was a short pause while Obi-Wan sorted out what he wanted to say, and Ryn let him.

In the end he answered her with a question. "Do you see Anakin having casual sex?"

Just the thought of Anakin having sex at all made her heart thump painfully in her chest and sent a whirl of deliciously illicit images through her head, making the cool Temple hallway throb with the life and heat of a tropical jungle. Her breasts felt strange: heavy, prickly.

_Anakin, Anakin ... No! Get a grip._

She drew in a slow breath and let it out, pushing her feelings firmly down.

"I guess not," she said, sounding almost calm. "It's not really his style."

"No," Obi-Wan agree. "I think Anakin believes in true love."

Ryn couldn't argue with that. She would even have thought it was a good thing, except it hurt so damn much to know it wasn't her. But that was not an avenue she wanted to explore with Obi-Wan, so she shied away from the issue and said instead, "We weren't ... doing that."

"I know," Obi-Wan said. "I was wrong. I misjudged both you and Anakin." He glanced at her sidelong. "I would take it as a great kindness if you would refrain from mentioning this to him. He already feels that I judge him too harshly in many things."

Ryn took a moment to absorb this before answering. "This time, he would have been right, wouldn't he? Don't you think Anakin deserves your apology more than I do? After all, he was the one you suspected of breaking the rules." She pulled a rueful face. "You just thought I was a wily seductress."

"You would have tempted me at that age," Obi-Wan hedged, and Ryn forced a smile, trying to keep a good humor about it.

"We're _friends_, Obi-Wan. Whatever else I feel, that friendship is at the heart of who we are together. Can you, as a Jedi, understand that?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "But I think that Anakin can. He has always had a greater ability to genuinely care for other beings than I could ever hope to manage. I just don't want him to fall into the dangers of attachment."

Ryn nodded, trying to see the situation from the Jedi's point of view. "Anakin told me once that he thought compassion was really just a Jedi name for unconditional love. I think he's on to something there. Except I'm not sure that anything else deserves to be called love. Real love doesn't have any room for selfishness. It's harder, because sometimes it means letting the other person go, even when you want to hold on. It can hurt. But I do truly love Anakin."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment as they paced down the broad corridor. When he spoke, he didn't try to refute her challenge. "I'm not sure I understand you," he admitted. "What is your point?"

Ryn huffed a soft laugh that she wished didn't sound quite so bitter. _This what I get for baring my heart?_ "I guess what I'm trying to say is that the Jedi need a new way of thinking about love and attachment." Obi-Wan looked confused, so Ryn tried again.

"Look at it this way," she said. "If you weren't attached -- _committed_ -- to the Jedi Order and what it stands for, at some level, the Order itself would inevitably fall apart. If beings didn't find reasons to become attached to each other, they wouldn't come together and make families. On the other hand, if jealous husbands weren't attached to their wives, they wouldn't cause violence, and if greedy beings were not attached to their wealth, the would not lie, cheat, and steal to get more of it. So it is important to be able to distinguish between healthy attachments and unhealthy ones. The truth is more complicated than the Jedi want to admit."

"So you're arguing that the Jedi haven't thought it through?" Obi-Wan said, a note of disbelief coloring his voice.

"I'm saying the Jedi would like to see attachment -- and maybe other things, too -- in black and white, as absolutes, because it's simpler that way. But that's Sith thinking, and it's dangerous."

They had reached the doors to the infirmary, but Ryn held Obi-Wan back with a hand on his arm. "These are perilous times for all of us, Obi-Wan," she said solemnly, relaxing her shields to let her utter sincerity penetrate as she held his gaze. "The Jedi cannot afford to take the easy way out. Take nothing for granted. Question everything. The fate of the galaxy may depend on it."

Obi-Wan looked alarmed. "What are you saying?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Are you talking about the prophecy of the Chosen One?"

At least he was taking her seriously. Ryn made a noise of frustration. "I don't _know_, Master Kenobi," she said, remembering to use his title this time. "Something is coming, a change. I can feel it. Our soothsayers -- precognitives, you would say -- tell us that the galaxy, and maybe even the Force itself, is building to a crisis." She kept her voice low, pitching it for Obi-Wan's ears only. "That's part of why I was sent here, part of why Master Qui-Gon Jinn was welcomed on Loreth, years ago. We could not let the Jed face the storm alone."

"Why are you whispering?" Obi-Wan asked her, casting glances in every direction. "Does Master Yoda know?"

"Shh!" Ryn warned, fighting tears of frustration. "I reported to the Jedi Council almost as soon as I arrived on Coruscant. They forbade me to speak of it to anyone else, even other Jedi. Perhaps they fear a panic; I cannot say. But you needed to know. If Anakin really is the Chosen One, you may have a more important part to play than any of us." She willed herself to hold back the tears. "The storm is coming, Obi-Wan," she whispered. "We stand in the shadow of the Apocalypse. You need to be ready."

Obi-Wan sat on a bench in the Healer's ward, deeply disturbed by his conversation with the girl currently being examined by Vokara Che. Not for a moment did he doubt that Ryn was in earnest. Her total conviction had permeated the Force, surrounding her with the unmistakeable, glowing aura of Truth. And Obi-Wan failed utterly to convince hmself that she was simply mistaken, letting her imagination run away with her. Ryn just wasn't that easily spooked. Before today, the only thing Obi-Wan had ever seen frighten her was the idea of Anakin in danger.

She'd covered it well, burying her fear under the intensity of her desire to warn him; but Obi-Wan hadn't missed the telltale white marks around her mouth that bespoke more than mere worry. The young woman who'd traveled across the galaxy to live in exile among the Jedi, who'd leapt through moving traffic to take down a man twice her size, and finally thrown herself several hundred meters down through Coruscant's bustling air-lanes without a second thought, was scared spitless.

It didn't take a Master to figure out that this was a bad sign.

When Ryn emerged, she looked calm again, reserved as ever, impressively in control of herself for a girl her age, even a jedi, and Obi-Wan remembered that even though she was younger now than Amidala of Naboo had been when he'd first met her, Ryn had been a leader among her people for years.

That was an unsettling thought. What must it be like to go from being one of the elite, the most important, the most powerful people on an entire _planet_, to being the servant of the Jedi Council, thousands of light-years from home?

Ryn smiled reassuringly at him, a princess in faded training pants, and Obi-Wan knew, suddenly, what she would answer, if he asked. _It's a sacrifice. I'm willing to serve._

"The news is no worse than I thought," she said cheerfully, and Obi-Wan blinked at her, regrouping. "A lot of protein shakes for the next few weeks, and extra training to regain my muscle tone ... What?"

Obi-Wan had stood, and now he bowed. Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his lips and gently kissed the scabbed-over knuckles. He kept hold of her hand as he met her clear green eyes, shadows now with fatigue. Ryn looked mystified.

"You wouldn't be here if you had not risked your life to save my Padawan," Obi-Wan said, by way of explanation.

Ryn shrugged uncomfortably. "He'd have done it for me."

"Yes, I know. But I realized just now, something I should have noticed long ago." She looked a question at him. "You would have deserved it," Obi-Wan said softly, and squeezed her fingers lightly before releasing them. "You are a true noblewoman, from the inside out, and you have earned my undying respect."

Ryn tilted her head to one side, regarding him with a quizzical smile. "Master Kenobi, are you growing maudlin on me?"

Obi-Wan smiled back. "Not at all. I just thought you should know. I ... you don't just talk about honor and self-sacrifice and unconditional love. You live them. And I wanted you to know ... it does make a difference."

Ryn leaned in and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek, much to the surprise of a passing Padawan.

"Thank you," she told him, squeezing his arm briefly. "That means a great deal to me, coming from you. Now ..." She looked around the ward with a shudder. "What do you say we get out of here?"


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: Ryn and Ferus talk. The plot thickens ...

Disclaimer: Star Wars is still not mine, more's the pity. Ryn and this story are, and I think I'll keep 'em. Meanwhile, I am not making a profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter Playlist:

Tender (blur)

Turn Me On (Norah Jones)

CHAPTER NINE:

Given a not-too-spotty bill of health from Vokara Che, Ryn bade Obi-Wan farewell in the corridor, declining his polite offer of a game of knights.

"Another time, I hope," she said, and meant it. "This evening, if you are free. Just now I am very anxious to speak with Padawan Olin, and I believe I know where to find him."

"Tonight, then," Obi-WAn agreed. "Come around nineteen hundred and we'll have dinner."

"Nineteen hundred," Ryn echoed, and waved a goodbye.

She'd told him the truth: she _was_ anxious to speak with Ferus. And Obi-Wan must have guessed that it was about the spy in the garden, and the threat to Anakin's safety. But he couldn't possibly have known what she was thinking, or he would have stopped her.

She tracked Olin down in a training salle, fencing with Master Drallig.

_Predictable._

She leaned against the wall and folded her arms, waiting for Ferus to notice her.

It didn't take long, although it did give Ryn a chance to confirm what she'd suspected: Ferus moved as well as he looked, the pretty, athletic prince of the Jedi Order.

He looked damn good, too: not just chiseled, but fluid in his movements; there was a _rightness_ about Ferus that made him fun to watch.

Ryn felt a oddly disloyal thinking that way; it was common knowledge in the Temple that Padawans Olin and Skywalker didn't exactly get along as good Jedi should, being locked in some sort of unknowable rivalry.

_Unknowable, my ass. Alpha males._

Across the room, Ferus locked gazes with her and disengaged from Master Drallig, a second too late to avoid getting a swat on the thigh.

Ryn winced, but Ferus took it in stride.

She studied the young Jedi as he approached, and she saw him give her more than a casual perusal in return. He was nearly close enough to touch when she finally spoke.

"Nice," she said simply, nodding toward the blue mat that covered the training area. "Good form."

"Thanks," Ferus said, wiping at his forehead, and Ryn reached for the shelf at her elbow and handed him a towel.

"I never did thank you for catching me," she said, watching him put the towel to use on his face and bare chest.

"I didn't do a very good job," Ferus pointed out. "You still faded away in the infirmary. I've never seen a being fight so hard. I didn't know it was _possible._"

"Yeah, I'm a trailblazer," Ryn said, shying away from the memory, echoes of pain sparking like electrical currents everywhere. _I did it. I hung on for him. That's what matters._

Except ... her body remembered the pain, the exhaustion, the relief of finally letting go.

The dark edge in Anakin's grief when she'd started to drift away.

She tried not to think about what she'd do if it happened again, or about the fact that someday, sooner or later, they'd lose each other anyway.

She shook off the remembered ache in her bones and said, "I was hoping we could talk."

Ferus eyed her warily, but she kept her expression neutral and her shields tight, giving nothing away.

"All right," he said finally. "You feel up to a walk?"

"Lead the way."

Olin took them out of the complex of training salles into a garden Ryn had seen before, but only visited with Master Yoda.

"Tell me how I can help," he said, settling into an easy gait down one of the paths."

"You can tell me everything you know about your master's investigation into our spy from the other night," Ryn said, falling into step beside him.

Ferus gave her a sidelong glance. "I'm relatively sure I'm not at liberty to discuss the details."

"So am I," Ryn said. "But I need to know. So I'm asking anyway."

Ferus frowned. "You're hoping I'll tell you because I feel guilty for not catching you in time."

"I'm hoping you'll tell me because it's the right thing to do," Ryn replied. "But if guilt is what works for you, I brought plenty."

Ferus turned a considering gaze on her. "I can't decide whether I find that admirable."

"You don't have to find it anything," Ryn said. "Just tell me what I want to know."

Ferus looked at her and sighed. "There isn't much to tell. The attacker you killed wasn't carrying any sort of identification, at least nothing we could discover when we recovered the body. The one who got away didn't leave a trail. Master Tachi is tracking down that friend of yours, the girl who visited the Temple a few weeks ago. Evinne."

Ryn realized she had stopped walking when Ferus turned and looked back at her, his eyes questioning.

"You contacted Evinne?"

"My master is trying," Ferus said. "Is that a problem?"

"I'm not sure," Ryn hedged, scrambling to regroup. "What is it that Master Tachi hopes to achieve by this?"

Ferus frowned at her. "Master Kenobi's report made it clear that she was a rogue. It makes sense to believe that she might have been involved."

"She's not a rogue," Ryn said, trying to keep her voice even. "What makes you think she might be connected?"

"She _was_ interested in the Chosen One, at least according to you."

"But Evinne is Yinang," Ryn pointed out, feeling out her depth with Ferus' conviction. Olin, like too many of the Jedi, was ready to explain but not to listen. "It wouldn't make any sense for her to want the Chosen One dead." Unhelpfully, she had found herself thinking along the same lines before now; but she couldn't make the pieces fit.

_Never mind that. Concentrate._

"I want in," she said decisively.

Ferus did a double-take and almost managed to cover it. "I'm sorry?"

Ryn put her hands on her hips and met his eyes squarely. "I want in. I want to be part of the investigation." Ferus shook his head, denial all over his face ,but Ryn overrode whatever he was about to say. "If it weren't for me, there wouldn't even _be_ an investigation," she reminded him sternly. "I'm competent, I'm responsible, and I know more about non-allied Force-sensitives than anyone you've got."

"Master Tachi will never agree," Olin said, but Ryn could sense him weakening.

"So don't tell her," she said, moving closer, and watched with surprise as Ferus' eyes darkened, just a little.

_All right, new plan._

She shifted ever closer, inside the Jedi's personal space, close enough that she could smell the spiciness beneath the drying sweat on his skin and he could smell her shampoo, which Ryn thought might be a little kinked, since in this case it was actually Anakin's shampoo that she'd used before leaving this morning.

_Oh, stang it, I have no idea how to do this ..._

"I need your help, Ferus," she said, looking up at him and trying to project something other than abject desperation, with limited success. "It's important that I work to unravel this mystery. I _need_ to do this, to make things right, to regain my inner balance."

Ferus looked lost for a long minute, gazing down into her face as though seeking answers there. Slowly his confused expression resolved into one of compassion.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, as close as most Jedi ever came to a hug. "I understand," he said. "Of course, I will do whatever I can to help you." His chiseled features clouded over. "It is the least I can do now. It is my fault that you must struggle with these feelings at all."

Denial came easy to Ryn's tongue, but she held back. If guilt made Ferus more inclined to do what she was asking, it was probably a bad idea to comfort him.

_So I have no morals. Wonderful._

They put their heads together and went over what Ferus knew, which wasn't much.

"All right," Ryn said, trying to push her own guilt aside to be dealt with later, "You've got nothing. Maybe it's time for a new approach."

Ferus looked wary. "Waht do you mean?"

"You're looking for a needle in a haystack."

The Jedi frowned. "I'm not sure I understand your metaphor."

"Forget that." Ryn pushed her hair back back and focused her gaze on the spires of Coruscant, visible through the transparisteel panes that made up most of the wall here. "What I am saying is that you're combing Coruscant for one individual in a sea of a trillion. That's inefficient. Go to where non-Jedi Force-sensitives are likely to be, and then let him come to you. Narrow the field and then lure him in."

"Except we have no idea where that might be," Ferus said, the faintest hint of exasperation shading into his tone.

"You don't," Ryn said. "I might." Despite the gravity of the situation, she felt a flicker of satisfaction as Ferus blinked in surprise. She tapped a finger against her lips. "We can't go as Jedi, we'd be too obvious. We need disguises."

"Master Tachi can --"

"No," Ryn said at once. "Master Tachi has been a Jedi far too long. That level of training will be a HoloNet banner to every Force-sensitive we meet. Just you and me." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Can you do it?"

"If you can give me the address," Ferus said, and Ryn shook her head sharply.

"I'm coming with you."

"You're in no condition."

That was true.

"Tomorrow night. I'll be ready." She didn't like the idea of delaying, but she hated the thought of Ferus wrangling around, trying to be inconspicuous, on his own, even more. No good could come of that, she was sure.

She saw the objection on Ferus' face and put out a hand to forestall him. "Please, Ferus. You don't know that world. I do, at least a little. Let me do what I can."

Olin nodded slowly. "All right. I'll meet you in the mess at eighteen hundred tomorrow night. We'll eat and then leave together."

"Bring me something sexy to wear," Ryn said.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: The dysfunctional Kenobi-Skywalker-Orun family makes dinner. Then there's a plot twist.

Disclaimer: Guess what, folks? I still don't own Star Wars. But I am still hangin' on to Ryn, Evinne, and this story.

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The Random Rearder: Glad you enjoyed Ryn's line. I'm hoping you'll like this chapter, too. :)

tiggeroxs: Anakin yumminess awaits.

**CHAPTER TEN:**

Ryn showed up early at the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters and helped Obi-Wan make supper while they waited for Anakin to come back from a training session with Master Drallig. He sparred with the best senior Padawans, always to their credit, but Ryn couldn't help wondering if Anakin would run into Ferus down there and somehow guess what was in the wind. She tried not to worry, tried to focus on her conversation with Master Kenobi, but she couldn't quite get comfortable, and it wasn't just the ache from her nearly-healed bones.

Washing vegetables, Ryn found herself in the middle of a conversation about Chandrilan erotic poetry, about which she'd known next to nothing until she'd stumbled across it while compiling a report on the Chandrilan Embassy on Coruscant, noticeably grown in size and importance since the Chandrilan's installed a new, state of the art, bacta-equipped hospital -- not that the bacta was unusual, anywhere in the Core, but the Chandrilans had made some innovations in its use.

Obi-Wan, it seemed, was a long-time enthusiast of their poetry.

"You have to admire the restraint of it," he urged her, gray eyes bright, as he waved a knife for emphasis.

"I don't _have_ to do any such thing," Ryn countered, laughing a little at his earnestness. "You can't make me."

Obi-Wan chuckled back of her. "All right. But at least admit that it's better than that twaddle to come out of Ryloth."

"With pleasure," Ryn said, "which, by the way, is a Chandrilan erotic poem. And I don't mean that it's the title. It's the whole poem."

"Well," Kenobi said, "perhaps that one uses a bit too _much_ restraint."

Anakin stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of his presence washing over her. "Too much restraint?" he said, eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief. "I never thought I'd hear you say it."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Not for a Jedi, Anakin, for an erotic poem."

Anakin looked understandably perplexed. "What do _you_ know about erotic poetry, Master?"

Obi-Wan blushed faintly, much to Ryn's amusement. "If it is Chandrilan, plenty. I admire its restrained elegance."

"I knew you didn't mean that about too much restraint," Anakin said. "But now I have to ask: why the discussion of erotic poetry?"

"A Jedi should be well-versed in the products of the Republic's many cultures," Obi-Wan began, and Ryn shook her head at him and got out the stir-fry pan.

"Nonsense," she said. "You enjoy the aesthetics. Not everything needs a practical purpose, Master Kenobi."

She reached for the oil, but Anakin got there first and poured it in for her.

She flashed him a quick smile of thanks, and began tossing vegetables into the pan as he recapped the oil and set it on the shelf.

"Tell me about aesthetics," he said, as Obi-Wan moved past them to turn on the heat.

Ryn settled the pan in place and glanced at Kenobi to see whether he were going to respond.

_Guess not._

Ryn pushed an escaping lock of hair in the general direction of her braid. "Aesthetics is the beauty of art, and art for the sake of beauty."

Anakin looked over his shoulder as he got down a loaf of bread. "Why else would you make art?"

Ryn shrugged helplessly and looked to Obi-Wan, who tasted the sauce in his mixing bowl and sighed. "Too bland. Anakin, some beings maintain that art should serve some higher ethical purpose: to teach us something, or effect social or political change. This needs more pepper."

But Anakin was already reaching for the cutting board to chop the small spicy pepper in his left hand. "Then why not publish an instructional manual, or log a protest in the Senate?"

"Sometimes a piece of art can express an idea more effectively than either of those things," Obi-Wan said, stirring while he watched Anakin chop. "Just one should do, Anakin."

"Negative, Skywalker," Ryn said. "Let's innovate. Put one in here."

Anakin wasn't facing her, but Ryn could _feel_ his smirk, like a teasing sunbeam dancing between the leaves overhead. A fleeting memory rose: lying cushioned by moss, staring up through the branches on a rare sunny day in early spring. It was an old memory; she couldn't have been more than four at the time. Long enough ago that she hadn't yet felt the terror of helplessness. Long enough ago that she still believed someone would take care of her, that the universe was essentially a fair place.

There were no leaves to glow in the sunlight on Coruscant. At least, there was the arboretum, but the trees there, transplanted to a place that was a natural habitat of _nothing_, didn't feel like trees. They never quite seemed real to her. They weren't _connected_ to anything, not part of a forest. Just trees, doing their best to live outside their natural element.

Not, she noted, unlike Anakin.

"Yes, Master. Yes, milday," he was saying now. He moved to lean over Ryn's shoulder and sprinkle tiny bits of pepper into the pan, and Ryn stretched up on her toes to brush an unexpected, feather-light kiss along his jaw.

"You have my undying gratitude," she said, smirking, and Anakin laughed before going back to his chopping.

Obi-Wan pretended not to notice.

"I think it seems sneaky to use art to make a point," Anakin said to his master, and Ryn glanced over in time to see the older Jedi shrug.

"If it works ..." he said.

_Way to teach ethics,_ Ryn thought.

She felt Anakin's confusion, but before she could think of anything to say that wouldn't just muddy the waters, he had moved on to his next question.

"So what's the point of an erotic poem?"

Ryn turned her back on the stir-fry to watch Obi-Wan flounder.

"I ... well, it's ... poets like to use metaphor."

Anakin looked at Ryn, who shrugged.

"Don't ask me," she said. "I'm not the one who thought poetry had to be practical."

"You know, for someone who apparently reads a lot of it, you take a narrow view of poetry's meaning," Obi-Wan said crossly.

Ryn turned back to the stir fry, moving it around with the large shallow wooden spoon Kenobi had picked up somewhere along the way. "That seems fair."

"You're not going to defend yourself?" Anakin asked, passing Obi-Wan a finely minced pepper.

"What for?" Ryn said. "It's true. I don't intend to change, and I am unlikely to alter Master Kenobi's opinion. So why argue?"

"Forget arguing," Obi-Wan said. "Take that stir-fry off the element before it scorches."

Ryn played two rounds with Obi-Wan after supper and then left, even though the night was still young and there was something nice about sitting in the Kenobi-Skywalker living area, playing cards with Obi-Wan in the floor while Anakin dismantled or reassembled (it was hard to tell which) something mechanical-looking at the low table Coruscanti apparently favored in their living rooms.

Something was bothering Anakin: she could _feel_ him, simmering at the edges of her consciousness, like a storm building rotation. Besides, working with machinery with no apparent goal was Skywalker Code for I'm Thinking: Leave Me Alone. He'd brought the jumble of parts and wires out of his room, evidently in deference to the fact that she was there; but he was so manifestly trying to hide his lack of calm that Ryn didn't feel right asking him about it.

So she left early, as much to get some rest herself as to give him some space, and gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder on her way out the door, restraining herself from sending him waves of comfort because she didn't want to bring Obi-Wan's attention to his distress if Anakin wanted to keep it quiet. There was every chance that Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to read him as well or as easily as she had; she wasn't sure how strong or deep the intimacy between them went, but from the first she'd sensed an uneasy dance there, and she didn't want to disrupt the delicate balance that kept them gracefully partnered together. But Anakin must have known what she was thinking, because he looked up at the last second and gave her a quick, grateful smile before returning to whatever he was trying to fix.

A pounding on her door woke Ryn in the dead of night. She stiffened, hand reaching for her lightsaber, trying to get a sense of who was on the other side of the door.

A quietly contained presence, with an edge of alertness: not Anakin, but who else would come to see her at this time of night? Who else would _come_ to see her at all, instead of merely sending for her to attend?

She followed the trajectory of some internal gravity to Anakin anyway, just in case, and found him smiling in his sleep, dreaming about the small, brown-haired young woman with the gentle eyes who had to be Padmé. Ryn automatically stamped on the flash of pain this knowledge brought her: there was nothing she could do about it, and it wasn't likely to help her in this particular situation, regardless.

_Until the possible becomes actual, it is only a distraction._

So who was at the door?

There was one way to find out. Ryn rolled to her feet and crossed the room to hit the door release.

Ferus Olin met her eyes. "Evinne Ardel is here, and she's asking for you." His gaze dropped below her neckline and he closed his eyes. "Clothes might be good."

Ryn looked down at herself, wearing her underwear in deference to the local custom of not sleeping completely nude. She hadn't quite been able to make herself adopt the habit of keeping a separate set of clothes just for sleeping, yet. She bit back a comment on the general inefficiency of such a custom and stood aside to let Ferus in.

"Come in while I get dressed," she said.

She scooped up her clothes and carried them to the small refresher to put them on before Ferus killed himself with not gawking. It seemed to be taking a lot out of him.

She threw on her chest support and miniskirt in record time and came out of the refresher barefoot, still adjusting her midriff-baring top.

"Brief me," she said, reaching for her boots.

Ferus didn't know much more than he'd said when he arrived. Evinne had appeared in one of the docking bays about twenty minutes before and asked to see Ryn Orun. But Master Tachi had been in the area, on her way to go do some ineffective searching, probably, and immediately claimed Evinne as her personal interest. Apparently, Evinne was injured, but Mater Tachi was refusing to take her to the infirmary until she answered questions, and Evinne was refusing to answer any questions until she had talked to Ryn.

_Just hell,_ Ryn thought, and walked faster.

She entered the Tachi-Olin quarters a beat ahead of Ferus, who'd paused to hit the door release (a sensible precaution), and found Siri Tachi standing glowering over a slumped, bloodied figure with bright golden hair that resonated brightly in the Force, with a sharp edge of anger that stirred Ryn's psychic senses.

"Ardel!" she snapped, appealing to Evinne's duty as a militiawoman as the fastest way to get her talking. "Report!"

Evinne pulled herself to a slightly more upright position on the couch and squinted at Ryn through the eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"Shorty?" she asked, her voice thready, and Ryn spun to Ferus and barked, "Water!" before refocusing on Evinne.

"I'm here, Evinne. What is it you had to tell me?"

Evinne shook her head weakly, and Ryn took the cup of water out of Ferus' hand without looking and knelt in front of the couch to wrap Evinne's battered hands around it.

"Tell me what you know," she urged; but Evinne shook her head again.

"Just ... you," she whispered, weaving in place.

Ryn put one knee on the floor and swiveled to lock gazes with Tachi and jerk her chin toward the door.

Tachi opened her mouth to protest, but Ryn narrowed her eyes, just a little, letting the barest sliver of her contempt show.

"_Later,"_ she said, weighting the word with the sense of command she'd learned -- earned -- in the militia, and Tachi, perhaps not used to such a direct challenge, or maybe just seeing that she was on shaky ground, took a step back and then turned and went out into the hallway, taking Ferus with her.

Ryn turned back to evinne. "They'll be back," she said. "Better not lose any time."

Evinne nodded and swayed, but Ryn had a hand on each arm, steadying her.

"The Chosen One," she whispered. "He's in danger."

_Anakin,_ Ryn thought, fear rising in her throat. She pushed it ruthlessly down. "What danger? From whom?"

She was pulled forward as Evinne slumped back against the cushions.

"They call themselves the Blades of Light," Evinne said softly. "They believe ... if they kill the Chosen One, they can prevent him from bringing balance to the Force. They are ... hunting him. I know you know ... who he ... is. Protect the ... Chosen One. Save ... save us all."

"I"m going to try," Ryn promised, hearing Yoda's admonition even as she said it. _There is no try._ "What can you tell me about their numbers, organization, home base?"

"Not ... much," Evinne rasped. "But they have some ... good fighters, and I think they're well-equipped. They have ... been planning this for a while."

Ryn gripped her shoulders a little harder. "Can you think of anything else? Anything at all?"

Evinne shook her head and let out a little keening moan. "Terch," she whispered. "He stayed and fought so I could get away, so I could warn you. But I ... _I left him there._ I left him ... there. He's ... a good man, Ryn, he is. A good man. Kind. We could have ... but I left him there."

"Shh," Ryn said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Shh. You did what you had to do. You did what you could. Terch understood that, or he wouldn't have stayed so you could go."

She had no way of knowing that, of course. But it sounded plausible, and Evinne's grief and guilt were wounds more serious than any of her physical injuries, and when the tight knight of pain the that kept Evinne shuddering inside loosened just the tiniest fraction, Ryn felt she had done the right thing. Helped, just a little bit.

She eased Evinne back on the cushions and stalked over to the door and slapped the release with a lot more energy than it required. Ferus she ignored, putting herself toe-to-toe with Siri Tach instead.

"Tell me," she bit out, furious and not bothering to hide it, "where is the Jedi compassion in refusing medical care to an injured woman within the halls of the Temple itself?"

"She was in no danger of dying," Tachi said, her voice holding firm, but Ryn saw the flicker of defensiveness in her eyes.

_You don't have a leg to stand on, and you know it. You screwed up._ "It doesn't matter. She is in severe pain. By withholding treatment you are essentially torturing her for information."

Tachi reddened, but Ryn had felt the chink in her armor; out there in the hall, she'd had time for second thoughts.

So Ryn shifted her gaze to Ferus. "Go get Master Yoda and Master Kenobi," she said, "and meet us in the infirmary. We will be there shortly."

She went back inside without waiting for a response.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Star Wars mysteriously continues not being mine. Very inconvenient. In the meantime, this is my story and I'm hanging on to it, even though I am not making a profit thereby.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

Anakin followed his master into the infirmary, which looked uncomfortably familiar since Ryn's stay there. He'd come so close to losing her. It had been the scariest moment of his life so far.

It still hurt to think about it, so he was almost glad for the distraction when Ferus appeared and said, "this way" and led them down a short hallway to a long room with a series of curtained alcoves, most of which were open and one of which was crowded.

Ryn was standing with her back to the entrance -- he recognized her black hair through the crush -- but she turned to greet them as they approached.

"Master Kenobi. Anakin." Something about the way she compressed her lips as she said his name made Anakin think she hadn't wanted or expected him to come; but she must have sensed his approach several minutes ago, and she had her surprise under control now.

"Evinne was just debriefing to Master Yoda," she informed them. "There isn't much. She may be able to tell us more about her sources once she has been treated." Her eyes cut to the Padawan who was preparing bacta patches, and her lips compressed again, a sign of thoughtful displeasure, well under control.

"Ryn," Evinne said hoarsely, "I'm not asking you to tell me anything you think is a secret. I just want to help. I mean it. If the Chosen One is killed, that's bad news for all of us. I --"

"You can help by telling us everything you know," Master Siri Tachi said sternly.

Ryn spared her a glare. "Oh, please," she said, her voice dark with disdain. "If Evinne hadn't wanted to talk she wouldn't have risked her life to come here. Stop trying to intimidate." She turned back to Evinne. "I just don't have the energy to heal you right now. I've only been out of the infirmary for a day myself. But you are in good hands."

Evinne nodded in groggy comprehension, and Ryn helped her to lie down on the narrow bed and then put herself in front of it, feet apart, arms folded; a clear barrier to further conversation.

Obi-Wan said, "Perhaps if we could retire to the waiting area?"

Yoda spoke up, jabbing his gimer stick into the middle of the throng. "A good idea, this is," he proclaimed. "Nothing more can young Evinne tell us, until healed, she is. Leave her to rest, we must."

They started for the door as a group, Anakin dropping into place beside Ryn, but then Evinne spoke from behind them.

"Shorty, Terch ... if he's still alive ..."

"We'll find him," Ryn promised, and turned to walk away at the same time that Ferus said something that caught Anakin's attention.

Anakin spun, faster than the occasion called for, and his Padawan braid whipped through an arc over his shoulder. There was a sharp _crack_, and Anakin spun back on his heel in time to see Ryn bending at the waist, her mouth open in a silent yowl of pain, one hand covering her nose.

"What?" Anakin said, confused.

Obi-Wan said, "I think the beads on your braid caught her in the face."

_What? How is that even possible?_

He took a step toward Ryn, hands raised helplessly. "Ryn, I'm sorry. Really, really sorry --"

Ryn waved him off with the hand that wasn't cupped over her nose. "I'm fine," she said, her voice oddly muffled with her hand in the way. "It didn't even hurt that much, really. Just startled me."

Anakin caught her hand and pulled it away from her face to reveal a bright red mark across the bridge of her nose. As he watched, a single drop of blood welled up and sat there, quivering.

He stared at the drop of blood, unable to look away, sick with the knowledge that, without meaning to, he'd just hurt her _again._

He reached up, drawn as if by some irresistible force, and touched his fingertips lightly to her injury, disturbing the red welling dot.

Ryn said (still slightly nasal), "Uh, Anakin?"

The drop broke and ran, its fragile cohesion shattered by his touch, just like Ryn. It trailed off to one side, leaving a darkening smear across one cheek.

He pulled back his hand as though burned.

"Anakin?" Ryn said, losing the nasal twang but still hushed with concern.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said, and fled.

Ryn started to go after Anakin and tell him that it was all right, but she took one step and then remembered that they were supposed to be having a very important meeting, and that if she didn't stay and try to keep everyone on track, there was every chance, based on what she'd seen so far, that it would degenerate into a debate on the nature of Evinne's heresy, instead of producing a practical plan for protecting the Chosen One, her best friend with the irrational guilt complex.

Ryn spat a curse under her breath and spun back to face the group. _Sorry, Anakin. I'm trying to keep you alive._

"All right," she said, more or less evenly, trying to sound more like a noblewoman with a deserved reputation for grit and intelligence and less like a hurt adolescent. "Master Yoda, I would appreciate it if we could hear Padawan Olin's report first."

Yoda twitched his ears at her. "More usual, it would be, to hear Master Tachi's report first," he commented neutrally. "A problem with this, have you?"

"Actually, yes," Ryn said, "I do. But I wish to file a formal grievance against her, and the Council Chambers might be a more appropriate venue for what I have to say."

"Remember, I will," Yoda said, still giving nothing away. "Padawan, speak, can you?"

"Yes, master," Ferus said, shooting Ryn a betrayed look. She felt badly about that, but he was pretty far down her list of people to save at the moment. Anakin would have to come first, and everything else would just have to wait.

Ferus reported basically what he had already told her, plus what Evinne had shared with them, which wasn't much.

At the end he turned to her. "Of course, I have no knowledge of what she said to you while Master Tachi and I were out of the room."

Ryn didn't like his implication, but the statement itself was factually unarguable, so she let it go to survey the room as a whole. "Who here has heard of the Blades of Light?"

Nobody said anything. Ryn suppressed a sigh and tucked her hands behind her back, standing at parade rest. "Master Tachi, are you certain you have never heard that name before?"

Siri said, "I think I'd remember." Ryn leveled a steady gaze at her, not liking the evasion. The older woman glanced at Yoda and said, "I've never heard that before, no."

Yoda twitched his ears again. Ryn braced her hands on the back of an empty chair. "Evinne claims that it is the name of a group working to prevent the prophecy of the Chosen One from coming true. No word on how they even know about it, but I would suspect a leak in the Jedi Temple. Her report seems to fit well with the spy Ferus and I encountered in the garden a few nights ago." She didn't mention Ferus' slip, or the disaster that had followed, but he colored and lowered his gaze anyway. "According to Evinne, she had a fellow Lorethan named Terch were involved in a confrontation with some members of this group, which ended in a firefight. Evinne escaped and fled here to warn us that the Blades of Light were looking to assassinate the Chosen One. Terch stayed behind to guard her retreat. His status is unknown."

"You don't have any independent confirmation," Tachi pointed out.

Ryn folded her arms. "_Somebody_ shot her to pieces," she countered. "And when it comes to independent verification, weren't _you_ supposed to be finding it for us, not waiting for it to fall in our laps?"

Tachi looked uncomfortable, and for a moment Ryn regretted coming so hard after her. But the woman was a Jedi Knight, who ought to know better, and her behavior lately hadn't exactly left a favorable impression.

Kenobi -- evincing the gift for peacemaking that would make him famous later, during the war -- cleared his throat and said, "Moving on. Assuming for the moment that the information Evinne has brought us is reliable, what can we do about it?"

This was the hard part. "Not much," Ryn admitted. "Evinne doesn't know where their base of operations is, or who is leading them. But she says they have some well-trained fighters, and that they are well-equipped with weapons. I'm hoping that once she is in better shape she'll be able to give us some idea of their numbers and fighting formations. In the meantime, I'd say we're looking at a base camp within the Galactic Core, maybe even on Coruscant, and a backer, or possibly more than one, with money. If we could find this Terch alive, that might be a good first step."

Ferus looked skeptical. "And how would we find the maybe-dead guy, since we don't even know where to look for the potential assassins?"

"I'm playing a hunch," Ryn said. "It's just a feeling, but I think that when Evinne calms down and is in less pain, she will be able to track him, at least point us in the right direction."

"Only if he's still alive," Ferus pointed out, and Ryn felt her throat twist.

"I know," she said. "But it's still better than anything else we've got. If we can't find Terch, at least we won't have lost anything by trying." She looked from one face to another, gauging their responsiveness. "Anybody have a better idea?"

"I'm still going to need to question Evinne Ardel," Tachi said.

"Over my dead body," said Ryn sharply. "She is a citizen of the Lorethan Free State and not accused of any crime. On the contrary, she came here for the expressed purpose of volunteering information she thought might prove helpful to the Jedi Order. I will not stand by and allow you to treat her like a convicted criminal."

Tachi looked ready to fire off a response, but Master Yoda waved his gimer stick between them, silencing them both. "The rashness of youth, this debate reveals. Needless it is to question our guest, when tell young Orun all she knows, she already may. The enemy we should fight, and not each other."

Ryn held still, trying to force her breathing into an even pattern, and waited as acceptance crept into Tachi's eyes. "Master Yoda," she said, when she thought she had got herself under control, "you are quite right. I apologize for my outburst. But I would be deeply irresponsible if I allowed one of my people to be treated inappropriately without so much as a hint of protest. I hope the fact that Evinne came here in good faith will be sufficient to encourage Master Tachi to reconsider her position, now that we have all had the chance to see the situation in a different light."

It was a hard speech to make, harder still to stay calm while saying it. But Ryn got through it and was rewarded by seeing Mater Tachi dip her head in acknowledgement.

"All right," Ryn said, feeling that at least some progress had been made. "Evinne should be healed and calm enough to talk soon. I intend to stay here in case she needs help to meditate. Someone from home might help to put her at ease. Master Tachi, am I right in thinking you will wish to remain, as well?"

Siri pulled a rueful face. "I fear I might have a less than calming effect on her, after the way I handled our first meeting. I will admit, I was ... precipitate. It wasn't the first time, but if it leads to young Anakin's being hurt ... it will prove the worst. Ferus might be a better choice to sit with you."

Ryn gave Tachi a slight bow in honor of her admission. "Excellent," she said, trying to feel relieved. "Then we need someone doing library research in the Archive and someone on the ground looking for Terch, as soon as Evinne is able to talk effectively." Of course, Evinne was undoubtedly going to insist on helping there -- and they would need her -- but Ryn thought that the issue could probably wait.

"I can join Master Tachi in the Archives, at least until Evinne is talking," Obi-Wan said, and Ryn shot him a grateful look.

"Wonderful," she said. "I think that's the best we can do for now. Master Yoda, we will check in with you as soon as we have anything to report, is that all right?"

Yoda chuckled. "Bossy, you are, young one. But approve of your plan, I do."

Ryn let out her breath slowly and straightened. Obi-Wan caught her eye and gave her a slight nod of approval, and Ryn gave him a relieved smile in turn, feeling that she had, finally, done something mostly right on Coruscant.

She waited with Ferus for the Healers to be done with Evinne, standing around the waiting area and trying not to pace.

"You're tense," Ferus observed.

"I'm concerned," Ryn admitted. "It's important that Evinne be able to remember numbers and formations. But one doesn't always think clearly in a firefight. It's possible that she won't be able to give us much more."

Ferus regarded her with deep suspicion. "I thought you said she'd tell us everything she knew."

"And I believe that. The gamble is whether she already has."

"You think she may not remember anything else?"

"That's the worst case scenario," Ryn said. "I don't think it's likely, but we ought to be prepared, just in case." She lifted aching shoulders in a weary shrug. "It's still more than we had at this time yesterday."

A door slid open. "Ryn Orun?"

Ryn turned to look at the Padawan in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Miss Ardel would like to see you."

Ryn straightened, pushing off the wall. "I'm on my way. Thank you."

Ferus shadowed her as she stepped through into the hallway behind the sliding door and tracked the sense of guilt and confusion to Evinne's bedside. He hadn't been included in the summons, but as long as he was helping Siri in the investigation, his purpose there was as legitimate as hers, and Ryn voiced no objections, though Evinne gave Ferus an uncomfortable look.

Ryn walked over to the bed and put a hand on Evinne's arm as the older girl began to sit up.

"Don't get up," she said. "You're exhausted; I can feel it. You need rest."

Evinne nodded. "Terch?"

Ryn said cautiously, "We haven't made any progress yet. We were hoping you might be able to give us a direction, once the Healers had done their work."

Evinne rolled her head to look at Ryn. "Get me a map."

Ryn glanced at Ferus, who shrugged.

"If we could get her to the map room."

Ryn looked back at Evinne, who set her jaw and nodded once, sharply.

Ryn bent and slid her arm behind Evinne's shoulders, helping her up. She looked up at Ferus as Evinne stood, white-faced and leaning heavily on her smaller companion. "Lead the way."

The map room was deserted, and Ryn stood propping Evinne up while Ferus toggled switches and tapped data crystals, until he had the part of Coruscant Evinne wanted. They zoomed in and shifted views until Evinne pointed and said, "There. That complex. Just east of Ziro's complex, about the fiftieth level. That's where the firefight started."

"More Ziro," Ryn said. "How does he figure into this?"

"He's branched out from spice and prostitution and now he's running arms," Evinne said. "The Blades of Light are getting at least some of their weapons that way, but we don't know where they're getting the money to pay for them. I was sent to Coruscant about three months ago with orders to find the Chosen One and protect him at all costs, but I didn't have an in at the Jedi Temple until I ran into you at Ziro's."

"You did _what_?" Ferus said.

"Long story," Ryn said. "What were you doing at Ziro's in the first place?"

"Trying to shut down his new trade in weapons," Evinne said. "And we did manage to steal that shipment. But it's too profitable for Ziro to back out now."

"So he's still supplying weapons to the Blades of Light," Ryn concluded. "You know any other suppliers?"

"Maybe Black Sun, but we can't confirm," Evinne said grimly. "Probably some small-time thugs as well. But if we can trace their cash flow, we can stop their weapons supply at its source."

"All right, we'll work on that," Ryn said. "In the meantime --"

"_How?_" Evinne said. "I've been beating my head against the wall for _months_ --"

"I know a Jedi who knows a guy," Ryn said shortly. "In the meantime, we'll get Master Tachi to search the area for Terch. And I think you'd better explain what you mean by _protect the Chosen One at all costs_ and why you didn't say anything before."

"Oh, because you were so happy to see me," Evinne said sarcastically. "Look, it was too big a risk, telling the Jedi. They don't exactly have lots of reason to love us."

Ryn kept her fingers from tightening on Evinne's bacta-smeared arm with an effort. "_I_ don't have lots of reason to love you at the moment," she gritted. "If anything happens to ... him .. because of this delay, I will have your eyeballs for dinner."

"You know the Chosen One," Evinne said, her ferocity somewhat hampered by the way she swayed on her felt. "_I knew it_."

"Eyeballs," Ryn reminded her, giving her a shake.

Evinne gave her a weak smile. "Yes, Shorty."

_I'm not Shorty any more,_ Ryn thought, but she said, "I'm taking you back to the infirmary. You still need rest. Ferus, you can brief Master Tachi."

"Of course," Ferus said. "But let me help you back to the infirmary first."

Ryn shook her head, tugging Evinne's arm over her shoulder again. "We'll manage. And if there are Force-echoes left from the firefight, they'll be easier to read the sooner she finds them. Let's not lose time."

"All time is lost," Evinne said bleakly, and slumped into Ryn's shoulder, hard.

"Hurry," Ryn told Ferus, and began the long trek back to the infirmary.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I still don't own Star Wars. But I do own Ryn, and Evinne, and this story, in which hopefully the plot is thickening. Send me feedback!

Review replies:

The Random Reader: If you can't tell where the story is going, then I am doing my job! Ha. I enjoy keeping you confused. :)

tiggeroxs: thank you for reviewing! reset that messaging thing so we can talk about Anakin's yumminess and upcoming shirtlessness, lol. :)

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Maybe half an hour after Ferus had come to call Siri away, Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, surveying the screen in front of him with mild-tempered bemusement.

He'd offered to accompany Siri, of course. But she had insisted that she didn't need him, that she could take care of herself on a fact-finding mission, and that she would call for help if she needed, while someone should undoubtedly continue library research, trying to locate possible inlets for the funding the Blades of Light were receiving.

Ryn would have been a logical choice for the library assignment: she spent much of her spare time in the jedi Archives, and she'd helped Anakin study often enough to convince Obi-Wan of her research skills. But Ryn looked likely to have her hands full for a while, dealing with her fellow Lorethan -- _what was Siri thinking, denying her medical care? That's just the sort of whatever-works thinking that stands to undermine Jedi ideals._

A faint stir in the Force, like the scent of distant flowers, alerted him to a presence nearby, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Ryn approaching.

She slowed when she saw him look up, and tried to smile, but her eyes were too tired to respond. She looked like she'd aged a decade since he left for Mon Calamari, and there was a faint edge to her presence in the Force, almost like bruising.

She pulled out the nearest chair and eased into it as though her bones hurt.

They probably did.

"How's Evinne?" Obi-Wan asked, watching Ryn shift furtively a few times in search of a comfortable position.

"Resting," Ryn said, growing still as she apparently gave up on comfort. "She was too exhausted to tell us much. She's troubled by something else, too, or maybe several things. In any case the Healers agreed that it would be wisest to let her sleep, give the body a chance to heal on its own terms."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I sense the two of you are closer than you led us to believe."

Ryn tensed, her eyes widening just a fraction before she could stop herself; she saw the knowledge on his face as his suspicions were confirmed, and suddenly the fight went out of her and she slumped forward, her spine going limp as a cut string, and scrubbed at her face with her hands.

"We fought together in the war," Ryn said, her voice muffled by her hands. "Wars, really. And then we ran with the same crowd for a few weeks on Malastare during the last Podracing championships, not long before I came to Coruscant. But we were never ... close. Evinne isn't close to anyone, as far as I know. And given her history, I don't blame her. She hasn't had an easy life."

"Tell me," Obi-Wan urged, and Ryn dropped her hands and shook her head.

"I wouldn't know where to start," she said bleakly, but Obi-Wan could see her trying to sort through the information in her head. "Her father, maybe. Son a bantha. He put her on the marriage market when she was my age, for sale to the highest bidder. Evinne overcame that by playing fast and loose with the rules: she charmed half the men on Loreth that year, was affianced at the end of the summer, and then appalled her would-be husband by taking the lead during a raid and beating off the attackers almost single-handedly. I didn't know him, but he was clearly keen on gender divisions. He withdrew his offer, and Evinne proved it didn't matter by remaining the most celebrated young woman on Loreth. But she still does whatever her worthless father tells her to do. And he doesn't give a bantha's backside about Evinne's happiness." She rubbed her forehead again. "No wonder she joined a cult."

"You sound as though you sympathize with her," Obi-Wan said, and Ryn nodded.

"Maybe I do. It's complicated. And now she tells me that she's here to protect the Chosen One from the Blades of Light. When I ran into her in Ziro's complex, she was trying to prevent delivery of a weapons shipment. That changes things."

"If she's telling the truth," Obi-Wan said, and Ryn gave him a half-hearted smile.

"I'm a hard person to lie to, Obi-Wan."

"You trust her?"

"More or less. I believe her, which is not quite the same thing."

Obi-Wan nodded, turning this information over in his head. "You think we ought to tell her about Anakin?"

"I think we ought to tell Anakin about her."

"He's a Padawan," Obi-Wan reminded her, and Ryn lifted her shoulders in a weary shrug.

"He's older than I am."

_Right._ It was easy to forget Ryn's age -- or lack thereof -- sometimes. She had a depth about her that spoke of experience.

She'd had a busy life.

"He ought at least to know about this new development," Obi-Wan said, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. It was a sign of excessive worry that he let his mind wander this way. _Anticipation is distraction, and worry is just a particularly unhelpful form of distraction._ "I suppose we'll have to go look for him," he mused. "I think he wanted to find a quiet place to meditate."

Ryn didn't comment on his interpretation, but the look on her face said she thought he'd left in a sulk. She closed her eyes briefly and said, "He's in the North Tower, not far from the top. Looking toward the Senate District."

Obi-Wan had dismal feeling he knew what was so interesting in the Senate District. "I didn't realize you could pinpoint people so precisely."

"I can't always," Ryn said. "But with Anakin the challenge is trying _not_ to feel him all the time." She paused. "He felt me. He's on his way down to find us."

"Convenient," Obi-Wan observed. He wasn't sure how he felt about such easy, intimate contact: theoretically Jedi could achieve a similar sense of each other, but it requires close proximity and a lot of mental discipline. Ryn brushed up against Anakin's mind from rooms and floors and towers away, a contact even sharper than the Master/Padawan bond.

Anakin appeared a few minutes later, a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead attesting to the fact that he had once again elected to run wherever he was going.

Under the circumstances, Obi-Wan decided to forego the lecture on Jedi dignity. "Ah, there you are," he said instead. "Ryn assured me you would be along shortly." He gestured at the weary young woman seated opposite him. "She has some news you ought to know."

Anakin listened to Ryn's explanation in growing disbelief.

"She _knows?_ All this time, she _knew_ they were going to try and _kill_ me, and she said _nothing_?"

"She didn't know it was you," Ryn pointed out. "The best way to keep a secret is to tell no one. Evinne has worked covert ops. She knows that. She took a risk, just telling me."

"How do we know we can trust her?" Anakin demanded, working through his frustrations in no particular order.

"We don't," Ryn said. "I mean, I believe her, but that's not much to go on. It's not a guarantee of loyalty. It's just her word and my hunch. But I've never known Evinne to lie."

"And you want me to tell her I'm the Chosen One?" Anakin asked, feeling inexplicably betrayed.

"No," Ryn said. "I just want you to know everything I know. No secrets."

"But I feel we should keep the advantages and disadvantages of informing Evinne fully in mind," Obi-Wan added. "This is not a decision easily made."

"Hmmm. Meditate, we all should," Ryn murmured, offering a somewhat lackluster Yoda impersonation.

Obi-Wan gave her a half-hearted smile in return. "I'm sure we should. But I'm going to do a little more research, first. Are you off to rest?"

Ryn winced. "Not yet. I have to get back to the infirmary. Evinne was out cold when I left, but I expect her to be released soon after waking. I need to make some sort of arrangements for her stay. I don't think Master Tachi will want her to resume residence outside the Temple just yet."

Anakin could feel her exhaustion in the Force. And he'd made he'd made her day even worse by smacking her in the nose: the cut was still a dark red streak against her pale skin. He wanted to apologize again, made it better, but there was Obi-Wan, and he didn't know what to say anyway, and then she was leaving, swaying a little as she got to her feet.

"I'd better not waste time," she said wearily, pushing in her chair. "I only came up here to brief you, after all I left Ferus with Evinne. He doesn't quite know what to make of non-Jedi Force-sensitives, I think. He keeps looking at Evinne as though he's expecting her to turn to the Dark Side at any moment."

"Well, if she wanted the Jedi to trust her, perhaps she shouldn't have been quite so secretive," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"No argument here," Ryn said. She bowed, moving in that careful way that spoke of bone-deep aches. "I shall see you later. Master Kenobi, Anakin."

Anakin watched her go, unable to string words together to form meaning. As she disappeared into the corridor, he turned back to Obi-Wan to see his Master eyeing him speculatively.

"What is it, Master?"

"She's not angry at you, you know."

"Angry at me, Master?"

Obi-Wan touched a finger to the -- uninjured -- bridge of his nose. "From when you struck her earlier. I know it upset you, but Ryn wasn't angry."

"Of course she wasn't angry," Anakin said. "It was an accident."

"Then why does it bother you so much?"

"Do we have to talk about it Master?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I suppose not. But I hate to see you unhappy, Anakin."

Every now and then, Obi-Wan showed he had feelings.

"I know, Master. Perhaps I should meditate on this privately."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows at the thought of anakin meditating on anything voluntarily, but he nodded, leaving Anakin free to bow and leave.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Give me some feedback on my Ferus, somebody. I'm venturing into unfamiliar territory here.

Disclaimer: This just in! Star Wars is ... not mine! Who knew? Equally surprising, I am not making a profit from this fanfic! Wow!

Review replies:

Jessi -- Evinne didn't set them up. I should probably include some exposition explaining what was up with that ...

Chapter Playlist:

They Bring Me to You (Joshua Radin)

Eet (Regina Spektor)

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"Master Windu came while you were out," Ferus said when Ryn walked in.

"Oh," said Ryn, dragging her mind into line with this turn of conversation. "What did he want?"

"To tell you that you've been reassigned to different quarters," Ferus said. "With Evinne."

Ryn had been about to pull the only chair around to the bed, since Ferus didn't seem to be using it, but she stopped and dropped her hands, trying to regroup. "Oh. That was fast. Well, as soon as Evinne wakes up, I'll go get my things and --" She stopped because Ferus was shaking his head.

"Master Windu said he was on his way to get Skywalker to do it, when he left," the Padawan said.

Ryn tried not to look as though she'd just taken a blow to the solar plexus. "Anakin?" she said, as though there were any number of Skywalkers wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple who might conceivably be asked to move her things. "Why?"

"He said Skywalker would know how you wanted it done," Ferus said, watching her closely. "Is it a problem?"

Ryn tried not to think about the number of illicit items stashed in her quarters. For example: a spare lightsaber. It had been bad enough when Anakin and Obi-Wan saw her use one in the bar; and it was a damn lucky thing no one had asked about the one she'd attacked the spy with, because that was going to be harder to explain. Yoda had definitely noticed, and she'd already to confess more to him than she would have liked; she'd never been able to decide with Anakin and Obi-Wan had actually not thought about it, or were refraining from asking out of politeness.

There were a fair number of other things in her quarters that she'd just as soon never saw the light of day.

"Because if it's a problem," Ferus said, still watching, "I could help you instead."

_What?_ Ryn thought, and then straightened, bracing one hand on a mercifully healing hip as she tried to blink away her confusion. "No -- no, that's fine. I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I'm sure Anakin will manage." _And die before he breathes a word of what he sees._ Anakin was loyal to the bone; Ferus had his own priorities.

Olin looked vaguely disappointed, and Ryn knew that something was not right there, but she didn't have the time or the energy to sort it out at the moment.

"Has Evinne said anything?"

Ferus shook his head. "She almost came around when Master Windu was here. But she went back under. I don't blame her. She was pretty beat up. I'm surprised she made it to the map room and back."

Ryn didn't mention that she had ended up carrying Evinne the last hundred meters or so, or the tense moments she'd spent looking at her companion's haggard face, pale under the neutral Temple lights.

"She's tough," Ryn said, reaching for the chair again and then jerking in surprise as it rose, seemingly of its own accord and floated over to the bedside.

She looked back at Ferus, who settled the chair with a slight motion of his fingers.

_Definitely something odd going on there._ Ryn decided not to comment on his frivolous use of the Force and met his eyes instead as she sat down. "Thanks."

"It was no trouble," Ferus said, radiating sincerity.

_You are beginning to worry me,_ Ryn thought; but she was pretty sure she had bigger problems than whatever was going on with Padawan Olin. So she settled back, trying to find a position that didn't hurt quite everywhere, and waited for Evinne to wake up.

Seventeen minutes later, Ferus tried to make conversation.

"I take it you haven't lived in the Temple very long?"

Ryn looked up. "About six months."

"Standard?" Ferus asked, and Ryn just nodded in response.

"So what's home like?"

"Less urban," Ryn said, her tone not encouraging.

"Most places are," Ferus said. "What about the weather?"

"It would be late autumn," Ryn said reluctantly. "We call it the deepening, when the leaves have fallen from the trees and the first of the snows have fallen too. It's the beginning of the quiet season."

"The quiet season?" Ferus asked, and Ryn bit her lip, remembering.

"During the coldest part of the year, we stay mostly indoors and do quieter things. The old people tell stories, and the young people learn handiwork -- how to mend equipment, things like that." She'd been on the point of saying _how to build lightsabers,_ but she caught herself in time. Keeping secrets was hard.

"It sounds pleasant," Ferus said, and Ryn nodded.

"We had our problems back home," she said. "But there were a lot of good things, too."

"You miss it."

"Yes."

Ferus looked thoughtful for a minute. "I can't remember where I was born."

Ryn wasn't sure what to say to that. She tested out her sense of him and found him wistful and confused. _No help there._ "I'm sorry?" she tried, but it came out sounding like a question, and she winced. "That must be difficult."

'I think it makes it easier for a Jedi," Ferus said bravely. "No attachments. Nothing to miss."

Ryn couldn't imagine trading her memories of home for anything, no matter how much they hurt sometimes; but she'd never seen it from Ferus' side, so she couldn't actually judge. So she just said, "Maybe," and went back to watching Evinne.

The silence stretched out for several minutes.

"Skywalker remembers where he was born," Ferus said.

There was something in his tone that Ryn couldn't quite define. "He remembers his mother," she said cautiously. "I'm not sure he remembers his birth."

Ferus looked confused. "I meant the planet."

"Oh. Well, yes, he does remember Tatooine quite well." She saw images in Anakin's mind sometimes, leaking through his shields: a dusty, dingy city that had to be Mos Espa; a winged being with a perpetual whine -- she'd heard him, but had no idea what he said, because it was always in Huttese -- and blurred scenery, flying by endless dry landscape that Ryn was sure must be the Podracing course.

"You probably like that about him," Ferus said, and Ryn blinked lost.

"What?"

"That he remembers where he came from," Ferus explained. "It gives you something in common."

"Oh." Ryn didn't really think Loreth and Tatooine were that similar, and being raised as a noblewoman seemed a significant contrast to being born a slave. "He remembers his family. I suppose that's a commonality."

"Are you -- ah, will you -- are you allowed to see them?" Ferus asked. "You family, I mean."

"My older brother should be paying a visit soon," Ryn said. Actually, he should have been here already, which was another problem she couldn't do anything about right now. "The rest are dead."

"Oh." Ferus' eyes widened. "I apologize. I didn't mean to --"

Ryn stopped him with an upraised hand. "It's fine."

Ferus subsided, radiating concern.

He really was a nice guy.

_Clueless, but nice._

Evinne woke less than two hours later, groggy but in much better shape. She lay still for a long moment, blinking her brilliant blue eyes, and Ryn let her, although she did get up and stand at Evinne's elbow.

"Was I out long?"

"Most of the afternoon," Ryn said. "Master Tachi is out looking for Terch, but there haven't been any developments since you went under. You haven't missed much. How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," Evinne said, and Ferus handed her a cup, the way he had fourteen hours earlier in the quarters she shared with Tachi.

Ryn helped Evinne to sit up, very slowly, and put the cup in her hand.

Evinne drained the cup in slow sips and handed back. "Thanks. What happens now?"

Ryn pushed off from where she had been leaning her hip against the bed. 'Now I go find a Healer to come examine you for release. Oh, and you'll be staying with me."

"What?" Evinne said, but Ryn ignored her to go out in the hallway and track down someone who had the authority to release her.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: I have some authorial issues with this chapter. I'm still not entirely convinced that it does what I wanted it to do. So anyone who feels motivated is invited to drop me a line and let me know how it works for them. And yes, I am using the gender-neutral plural pronoun. Deal with it, English nerds. :)

Disclaimer: Star Wars is still not mine. Thank goodness. I'd hate to have the weight of an entire galaxy resting on my shoulders. My OCs and this story are quite enough.

Chapter Playlist:

Moments that Define Us (Kerry Muzzey)

Samson (Regina Spektor)

Fix You (Coldplay)

Now We Are Free (Lisa Gerrard, et al)

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Master Windu had fortunately told Ferus where the new quarters would be, so he led the way and the two Lorethans followed him.

"Tell me again why I'm moving in with you?" Evinne said as they headed up the stairs.

"It's convenient," Ryn said. "Also, the Jedi don't trust you as far as they could throw you."

"Why do I suspect I have you to thank for that?"

"Because you do?" Ryn suggested. "Look, you knew where my loyalties were before you came here. Don't act all surprised now. Plus, you haven't entirely convinced me of your good intentions. Or have you forgotten the fight in the bar?"

"That wasn't my fault!" Evinne protested, struggling along beside her. "Ziro's men traced us somehow -- but I didn't know that, I swear!"

"You could have avoided the situation altogether if you'd been up front about things from the beginning," Ryn said, uncompromising where her friends' safety was concerned. "Someone could have gotten hurt." She wanted to point out that the _Chosen One_ could have gotten hurt, but she didn't see any need to give Evinne any clues. Anakin could do that on his own if he wanted to. Ryn wasn't going to make any decisions for him.

Evinne hesitated just briefly before nodding. "You're right. I apologize. I wasn't being fair."

"Just don't forget," Ryn warned her. "We're in this together because we both want to protect the Chosen One. It doesn't mean we're on the same side."

"I remember when you were friendly," Evinne groused.

_Me too._ Ryn swallowed that thought. "That was a long time ago."

Evinne snorted. "You haven't been _alive_ a long time."

"Keeps getting longer," Ryn said, and heard Ferus chuckle.

The new quarters, gleaming white walls with big windows that let in the Coruscanti sunlight, were a considerable improvement over Ryn's old digs, and Ryn was inclined to be cheerful about the change, until she spotted Anakin, kneeling in the middle of the living area and trying to reassemble one of those low tables that were de rigeuer for Coruscanti apartments. He looked up and met her eyes, and then his gaze slid away, but not before Ryn caught the betrayal in his eyes and felt the world fall out from under her, the loss as vital as her heartbeat.

"Anakin, you've met Evinne," she heard herself saying, as though this were any ordinary encounter. As though they were all friends and his life were not at stake and he hadn't just uncovered all her dirty laundry.

"Of course," Anakin said, getting to his feet and bowing. "Could I speak with you alone?"

_At least he's still talking to me,_ Ryn thought, gloomy through the haze in her mind.

"Of course," she said, unconsciously echoing him. Her voice sounded almost normal, but she felt the words strangling in her throat. "Evinne, why don't you go choose a room --"

"I already chose," Anakin interrupted her. "I put your things in the room with a window over the city."

"Okay," Ryn said, regrouping. "Evinne, why don't you go get settled. Ferus--"

"I'll finish the table," Ferus said, glaring at Anakin. "Take your time."

Anakin grabbed Ryn by the arm and hustled her out into the hallway, where the door fell shut behind them with a hiss.

He dropped her arm and stood looking at her, a look that wasn't quite a glare because it was too wounded. "What do you think you're doing?"

There was no cover story that could explain the transmitter equipment. The lightsaber wasn't such a secret any more, anyway -- since the incident in the bar, she'd come clean to Yoda about that -- but the transmitter was _illegal_. There was no lie that could get her out of that one.

She couldn't imagine lying to Anakin, anyway.

He stood there, staring down at her, waiting for her to deny it, to explain herself, to make sense of it for him, the hurt leaking through the anger, and Ryn finally cracked under the pressure.

"I don't know where to start," she said helplessly. "I can't -- Anakin, there's no way I can explain this that will make it all right. I've been _trying_ to keep faith with all sides. I've been trying to serve the Jedi without betraying my people -- but there's so much the Council isn't ready to know, and what they need to know they don't want to hear, and I swear, Anakin, _I swear to you,_ that the hidden equipment was for emergencies only, in case things went horribly wrong, and I've only used it once, when we were afraid Evinne was gunning for you, that's the only time, and I wanted to tell you, _so bad_, but the secrets weren't mine to tell, and you're a _Jedi_--"

Anakin took her by the shoulders, concern now mingling with the hurt and anger in his eyes. "Shh," he said, halting her babble. "Start at the beginning. Tell me everything."

"I can't," Ryn said, miserable. "I'd tell you all my own secrets, but there are things happening on Loreth that the Jedi can't know, not yet. Our families would never be safe again if they knew. I can't betray all those people. I have to figure out what I'm going to tell the Council. Did you turn my stuff over already?"

"No," Anakin said, frowning. "I hid it in my room. Ryn, what's going on?"

Ryn scowled, trying to backtrack through that statement. "Wait a minute. In your room? What the kriff are my things doing in _your_ room?"

"I wasn't sure how much you trusted Evinne," Anakin said, looking worried. "And you've got a bad relay in that transmitter. Look, I'm trying to help you, and you're not making it easy." He tucked in his lower lip, a sign that he was concentrating, hard. "You've been keeping a lot of secrets."

"I know," Ryn said, refusing to blink even though her vision was blurred with tears, held by some unreasoning fear that if she looked away, even for a second, he would somehow disappear. "And I know you have every right to be made at me. But I'm trying to do the right thing here, you know? I'm trying to protect my people from the Jedi and the Jedi from themselves and you from Force knows who, and it's a lot to keep track of. The best I can do is to promise that I'll never lie to you. Anything I tell you is the truth, straight up. But there may be a lot of things I don't tell you." She swallowed hard, finally closing her eyes against the tears until Anakin spoke.

"You're asking me to trust you," he said, shifting closer, his voice going soft.

He didn't sound happy about it, and he felt ... confused.

"Not blindly," Ryn said, reaching out to touch him and fisting her hands in his tunic, clinging to him desperately. "Search your feelings. For stars' sake, search _my_ feelings. See for yourself."

Anakin's eyes burned into hers, and she felt the Force stir and stood still, quiescent under his probe, letting him in.

Finally his grip relaxed on her shoulders and she felt him disentangle himself from her mind, leaving with a soft brush of his mind against hers that was almost a caress, and Ryn sighed, missing him already.

"I trust you," Anakin said. "You're a good person, Ryn. The real question is: do you trust me?"

"What?" Ryn said, pulling back a little without letting go. It felt unreasonably good to hold on to Anakin; there was something comforting about him, even now, as though his strength were a solid, physical thing she could lean into and depend on. As though, with him, she could finally rest after years of war and responsibility. She forced herself to refocus. "What do you mean?"

"Do you trust me enough to tell me the truth?" Anakin asked her, his voice quieter than usual, looking into her soul with gentle eyes. "Do you trust me enough to let me help you?"

"I'm fine," Ryn insisted. "I don't need any help."

"You're hiding illegal transmitters in the Jedi Temple," Anakin pointed out. "You need all the help you can get."

_Good point._ She looked up at him and thought, _If I can't trust you, I can't trust anybody, ever again._

Telling Anakin would change everything. If she told him ... they were in this together, forever. She'd be blurring the line again, between duty and friendship, stepping off a cliff into a future neither of them could see clearly.

She met his sure blue eyes, so concerned for her, and stepped off the cliff, into freefall again.

"Okay," she said, and moved closer to breathe her next words for his ears only. "There are more Force-sensitives on Loreth than anyone realizes, and we have our own ways of training. Different than the Jedi Temple, but effective for our needs. I made that lightsaber when I was a child, and it was in the package my brother sent through Ziro. Yoda knows I've had some training, especially since the fight in the club, but that's it. He let me build a lightsaber here and I never told anybody about the first one. And the transmitter was in case our worst fears were realized and the Jedi proved corrupt. They weren't, and so I've only used it the one time. And there's more, worlds more, but isn't that enough for now?"

"I guess so," Anakin said. "But I want you to tell me everything eventually."

"I can't tell you everything," Ryn said. "Some things you have to experience for yourself. But I'm not keeping secrets from you, either." She stopped and cleared her throat self-consciously. "And you can ... you know ... _search_ me again, whenever you feel like it."

"You --" Anakin broke off, frowning down at her as though she were a droid with a malfunction he hadn't seen before. "You _liked_ that."

He sounded shocked, and Ryn felt herself blushing, mentally kicking herself for revealing too much, even though she'd just promised to let him see everything. She swallowed hard. "Yes. I mean, I _feel_ you all the time, but you don't touch my mind on purpose that often."

"The other night on the couch," Anakin began, and Ryn winced. "What?"

"That time ... you were a little rough," Ryn said reluctantly, remembering the stomach-churning sensation of having her memories shoved and pulled one way and another, tossed about inside her head. "I didn't mind," she added quickly, sensing Anakin's immediate distress. "This time felt different, that's all."

"Better?" Anakin asked her, and Ryn felt the smile steal across her face, cutting through the worry.

"Yeah."

But Anakin was looking at her nose, and then he reached up and touched the tiny cut where one of his beads had smacked her earlier, a freak accident. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said softly, his voice thick with regret. "I hurt you all the time without even trying."

Ryn reached up and took his hand from her nose, threading her fingers through his. "You make me feel really good, too," she reminded him. "I wouldn't trade your friendship for anything, Anakin. Not even if it meant I would never hurt again."

He probed her then, very gently, seeking the truth in her words, and for a long minute, Ryn just stood there and let him test her feelings out for himself. Then she reached out and touched him back, a light stroke along the surface of his mind.

Anakin shuddered, breathing in sharply, and broke contact, but he didn't seem upset.

"Good?" she asked him, eyes intent on his face.

Anakin nodded. "Is that -- is that what it feels like, for you?"

"Something similar," Ryn said. "I would imagine that my mind is ... quieter ... than yours. Less intense."

Anakin's cheeks reddened slightly. "Master Obi-Wan says I must learn to quiet my mind."

"Sounds like good advice," Ryn said, still holding on to his hand. "But I like your mind the way it is."

"I like yours, too," Anakin said decisively. "You feel ... steady."

_Steady?_ Ryn thought. _How not romantic._ She pushed the twinge that brought her away and tugged at Anakin's hand, jerking her head toward the door. "You ready to go face the dragons?"

Anakin took a deep breath and settled his features into what he must have thought was a mask of Jedi calm.

_Force help you if you ever play sabbac,_ Ryn thought, and opened the door.

Ferus looked up as Skywalker and Ryn entered, and tried not to think about the emotions he'd felt radiating from the other side of the door. He hadn't always been able to keep them separated, and he hadn't wanted to invade their privacy by actively seeking, but he had a good guess, from Orun's face, of which one had been to the heights and back. She had that wrung-out, bright-eyed look that he had come to associate with intimate pleasures. Not that he would know for himself, but he'd had the misfortune of interrupting a few couples in the line of duty, and Ryn looked like a woman who'd just gone up against the wall.

He cast a glower at Skywalker -- willing or not, Ryn was still clearly too young to be engaging in that kind of activity. _How could she possibly have the discipline to keep her emotions uninvolved?_ Another quick glance at her face proved that she hadn't; she was utterly smitten with Skywalker.

_All right,_ Ferus thought, trying to be reasonable, _be fair. Women come to Skywalker like Toydarians to credits. She probably made the first move._ He looked back at Skywalker, ducking his head and blushing at something Ryn had said, taunting her with that damn smile.

Ferus had heard all about that smile: quite a bit more than he wanted, in fact.

That smile was dangerous.

Ryn looked up at him, smiling back, clearly ready to give him everything she had, and Evinne, who'd come back out of her room, wasn't exactly looking disinterested, either.

_Anakin, you're a nuisance._

Skywalker must have caught at least part of that, because he suddenly jerked and turned to look at Ferus.

"What?" Ferus said, trying to look blank and not to scowl.

"Nothing." Skywalker shook his head, stripped off his tunic, and put his back into moving furniture under Ryn's direction.

Ferus threw off his cloak and moved to help him.

A minute later, Ferus decided it was too warm in the room and stripped to the waist, matching Skywalker.

Evinne wandered in from the kitchen, sipping a glass of water, elaborately casual, and nudged Ryn with a hip. "Our first day living together, and already we have _two_ shirtless men in our apartment. I foresee great things, Shorty."

Ferus didn't think Ryn was all that short, but he was busy trying to hold onto the couch, because Skywalker had just dropped his end.

"Sorry," Anakin murmured, his cheeks aflame, and Ferus remembered that, although women materialized wherever Skywalker went, he never seemed that interested. Skywalker was a lot of things Ferus didn't like, but he wasn't a flirt.

_So what's going on here?_

Ferus thought it over as they nudged the couch into place. It was possible that Skywalker did really like Ryn, in which case opposites really did attract. It was also possible, although distasteful, that Anakin knew how Ryn felt and was using her. Ferus didn't think it was possible that Skywalker hadn't noticed. He'd have to be completely oblivious.

Anyway, Orun was too young. _For either of us._

That line of thinking was dangerous.

He almost missed Ryn's sigh. "You can't say things like that around Jedi," she was saying to Evinne, sounding exasperated. "They're mostly celibate. They like it that way."

Ferus straightened sharply, causing Anakin to grunt as he suddenly found himself with the full weight of the couch. _Serves you right,_ Ferus thought, although Skywalker's crime was yet to be determined. "We're not celibate," he said, and knew he'd spoken too quickly when he saw Ryn's eyebrows shoot up. "I mean, we don't have to be. We just can't form attachments."

Anakin stopped adjusting the couch to stare at him, patently disbelieving. Ryn looked confused. Only Evinne appeared at ease with this information.

"Of course not," she said, meeting Ferus' eyes. "We all need to release a little tension now and then. Nothing wrong with lending a friendly hand."

Skywalker gave her a puzzled frown, clearly missing the double entendre. Ryn just as clearly got it. Ferus saw her jaw tighten as she wrapped one hand around Evinne's upper arm. "Excuse us, gentlemen," she said, and marched Evinne out in the direction of their bedrooms.

Ferus looked back at Anakin, standing in the light from the window, golden as the Coruscant sun. "Stop flaunting," he said, and ignored Anakin's outraged "_What?!_" because he didn't have the answer.

_I must be losing my mind,_ he thought, glaring at the couch as though it were responsible.

_That's going to be a problem._


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note:** Ryn and Evinne's relationship as roommates gets off to a rocky start, and warm feelings are all over the place. Also, ffn keeps removing my line spaces, so the formatting looks wonky, but I refuse to accept any of the blame. It's the Dark Side.

**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Star Wars. But I do keep the Lorethans and this story on a tight leash.

**Review replies: **

Signed reviews have gotten replies already, but ...

Flame Skywalker: So glad you are enjoying the story! The plan is to keep you guessing a little longer ... but here's an update, anyway. :)

**Chapter Playlist:**

I Kissed A Girl (Katy Perry)

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The Way I Am (Ingrid Michaelson)

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Ryn hit the door release to what was evidently going to be Evinne's bedroom and shoved the older girl inside, practically throwing her at the bed.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, fury choking her so that her voice came out as a strangled whisper. _"I have to live here!"_

"I know that," Evinne said.

"Then why are you out there _putting the moves on Jedi?_"

Evinne frowned. "I thought Skywalker was the one you were interested in," she said. "I didn't know this Olin character was off-limits. He looked like a good time, that's all." She raised her hands. "Look, if you want him, he's yours. I didn't mean to step on your toes."

"A good time," Ryn repeated, ignoring that last bit because she didn't think she could keep a straight face if she had to argue that she wasn't interested in Anakin. "Evinne, there are no Jedi who are, as you put it, 'a good time'." _Well, maybe Anakin. But Kenobi's supposed to be working on that._ "And they are _all_ off-limits. Do you have any idea how disruptive it would be to have you running around the Temple, making advances to every Padawan you think could stand some tutoring?" She didn't wait for an answer, pausing only to smack her open hand against the wall, hard enough to make Evinne jump. "if your _releasing tension_ ends badly, or leads to an awkward situation with the Jedi ... you get to leave, eventually. But I have to live here. Indefinitely. I have to live with whatever impressions you leave behind."

"Willingness to take and share pleasure is a bad impression?" Evinne asked, leaning back on her hands and looking up at her. "Damn, Orun, I'm starting to think you could use some yourself. We could--"

"_No,_" Ryn said, cutting that line of thought dead. "And for the Jedi? Yes, it probably is a _terrible_ impression. Many of them do practice celibacy, even though, as Ferus said--" _damn him_ "-- only attachment is strictly forbidden. But you are _also_ definitely making Lorethan women look wild and predatory, and that I don't need. I am not interested in becoming the Bogey for the next generation of Padawans."

"So what do you want me to do?" Evinne said, looking more puzzled than irate. "Act like a Jedi myself?"

_And that would be a bad thing?_ Ryn thought. She said: "At least stay away from the Padawans. The Masters can take care of themselves, more or less." _With Evinne around, maybe a little less._ "And try to remember this isn't like home. Open expressions of feeling are not welcome here."

Evinne's brow chiseled a single a furrow in the exact, perfect center, a gesture Ryn found irrationally irritating. "That doesn't sound like much fun. Or like the Living Force at all."

"I don't think that _fun_ is a primary concern for the Jedi Order in general," Ryn said, leaning back to brace herself against the wall. She scrambled for words to explain the Jedi's relationship with the Living Force, something she wasn't sure she understood herself, but all that came to mind was: _Force, I'm tired._

"Your friend Skywalker looks like he believes in fun."

Ryn bit back an impulse to say _stay away from him_ and settled for, "That's Master Kenobi's problem."

"So you see it, too," Evinne said with some satisfaction, and Ryn curled her hands around the bed-frame so she couldn't smack her.

"Don't make waves, Evinne," she said, trying to sound stern. She was pretty sure she only sounded exhausted and desperate. "You want to protect the Chosen One from these assassins, that's fine. I'll be grateful for your help. But while you are here, you will do your best to conform to Jedi standards of behavior. Is that clear?"

Evinne looked up at her, consideringly. "I never thought of you as a conformist, Shorty."

"Think again," Ryn said, preventing herself, with an effort, from grinding her teeth. "You're on the Jedi's turf now. Their rules. If you don't like it, I can make arrangements to get you off-world, but I won't let you jeopardize this alliance." _Such as it is._ "Too much is at stake."

Evinne was quiet for a minute. "You really believe the storm is coming?"

"If it is, the Jedi will be at the center of it," Ryn said, not even bothering to hide the grim note in her voice.

It wasn't really an answer, because Ryn didn't really know herself, but Evinne seemed to accept it anyway. She stood slowly, her eyes locked on her younger companion's. "All right. I will respect your authority in this matter. Do you want me to apologize to Olin?"

Ryn could just imagine that scene. "Kriff, no. Stay here, and once I get rid of our company I'll give you a lesson on proper Jedi manners. You're going to need it."

"I have excellent manners," Evinne protested, finally sounding offended.

Ryn doubted it, but she chose not to argue. "Lorethan manners," she said. "They won't do you much good here."

Ryn stalked back to the living area to find Anakin and Ferus standing silent, not looking at each other. When they saw her coming, they snapped to attention.

"We, uh, we weren't sure what else you wanted us to move," Ferus said.

_Can you move me all the way back home?_ Ryn thought dismally, uncharacteristically bitter. She shook her head to clear it and found Anakin's arm on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice warming with concern, and Ryn looked into his eyes, a little shaken by the realization that she wasn't sure she would go home now if she could.

_I'm changing inside._

The thought frightened her, because it was true. She wasn't just playing by the Jedi rules any more: she was beginning to _belong_, from the inside out. She could never just go back to her life now. Not after knowing Anakin. She'd never be a Jedi, but if she went home now, there would be something missing. Something, she was pretty sure, much like the young man standing in front of her, waiting for an answer.

"Ryn?" Anakin said, and Ryn dredged up a smile for him.

"I'm fine, Anakin. Just tired. And the apartment looks great. Thank you. Both of you. You did a great job."

"If you want anything moved--"

"I don't. It's fine. Very homey. I mean it, Anakin, thanks. You, too, Ferus." Any other time, Ryn would have given Anakin a quick squeeze to show her appreciation, but it didn't feel right with Ferus standing there: unlike Anakin, he hadn't been raised with hugs. So she settled instead for sending warm feelings in his direction, and knew she'd succeeded when he smiled back at her.

"Do you need me to stay?" Ferus asked, casting a concerned look toward the hallway that concealed both bedrooms. "I could ... help keep an eye on things."

Ryn decided not to point out that a woman who had commanded dozens of warriors could probably handle one houseguest. Deep down, she didn't feel like handling much of anything at the moment but a bath and a nap. Instead she just smiled and shook her head. "If Evinne is half as tired as I am, she won't have the energy to make any trouble. We'll stay here and rest up until new information comes in. You'll let me know as soon as you hear anything?" Their previous plan, of meeting at supper, was clearly now obsolete; they were going to have to come up with an alternative, but not here, not in front of Anakin, and probably not until the dust of Evinne's arrival had settled and they had a moment to put their heads together and think in private.

"Of course," Ferus said, and Ryn tried to inject her smile with gratitude, rather than fatigue.

"Thanks, Ferus. I appreciate it."

Ferus bowed in acknowledgement. "We'll leave you to rest, then. I'll contact you via the room comm if anything comes up."

"I already set up the access," said Anakin, proving once again that he was a remarkably efficient mover. "The operation code is the day we met, Coruscant Standard date --"

"I remember," Ryn interrupted. "And thanks again."

She saw them both to the door, but she didn't bother to undress or go to bed. Instead she tugged off her boots and threw herself on the couch, waiting.

Three minutes and forty-six seconds later, the door chimed.

"Come in," Ryn said, stretching her legs out on the couch and wiggling her toes.

Anakin walked in. "I doubled back. You know, I could probably rig your door so it would lock if you want it to."

"Any Jedi could pick it," Ryn pointed out. "It's fine the way it is."

"No, it will be easy. Look --"

"Anakin, you have my blessing to do anything you want with that door." _And me. _"Tomorrow. After I've had a chance to sleep." It couldn't be seventeen hundred hours yet, not nearly bedtime, but Ryn didn't care. Force-healing had left her weary, and she hadn't slept more than a couple of hours the night before. "What was it that you came back here to tell me?"

"Oh! Right." Anakin came around to sit beside her on the couch, nudging her with his hip so she scooted against the back, the pressure of his body holding her there. Ryn felt his weight dip the cushion and waited for her bones to protest, but even her cracked pelvis -- _well, not cracked _anymore -- didn't complain. _Guess the healing is complete after all._ "I came to see if you wanted me to bring you your things tonight, or if you'd rather have me keep them for a while, especially since, you know ..." He jerked his head in the direction of Evinne's room.

"I don't think we need to worry about that," Ryn said, speaking softly in case Evinne was listening. "I can't see how Evinne would benefit from turning me in to the Jedi Council. I can't even think how she would know what constituted a prohibited item here. I've never seen a list." She rubbed her aching eyes. "But I don't like the idea of you wandering the hallways with that equipment. Suppose someone saw you?"

"Easier for me to explain than you," Anakin said, and Ryn shook her head.

"No. I won't ask you to lie for me. Leave them where they are, if you don't think Master Kenobi will notice, and I'll come for them tomorrow. Somehow."

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, stopped, and then said, "You're so tired, Ryn. I can feel it."

"It's the Force-healing," Ryn said. "It takes a lot out of you. Still better than broken bones."

Anakin looked down at her in concern. "is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

There was, but the damn Jedi Code wouldn't let him do it.

"I'm fine," Ryn said, trying to firm her tone. "I just need a little rest."

Anakin touched her arm hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

_You really do want to fix everything, don't you?_ Ryn caught his hand and squeezed it. "Yes. Really, Skywalker."

"All right." Anakin pulled his hand away, and Ryn swiftly tamped down her regret, almost a reflex now. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Earlier if we have new information before then," Ryn reminded him. "I want to know what's going on."

Anakin didn't say anything, but he ducked his head in acknowledgment, and Ryn let it go. He touched her cheek once, a barely- there brush with the backs of his fingers, and left.

Evinne lay back on the bed in her new, and probably very temporary, room and listened to the low throb of Anakin's voice and the husky sweetness of Ryn's. She couldn't make out what they were saying to each other, but she didn't need to. The Force told her everything she needed to know: Skywalker was worried about Ryn, and Ryn was desperately in love with Skywalker, although she was evidently at some pains to hide it -- from him or herself, Evinne wasn't sure.

Their Force-presences were both warm with affection, a kind of tenderness Evinne couldn't remember ever experiencing firsthand, although she had felt the overflow from other beings, as now, from time to time over the last few years. Not often. Genuine affection was a painfully rare commodity in the galaxy.

Despite Ryn's insistence on adhering to the strictest standards of Jedi conduct, Evinne was not sure how well the younger woman was going to hold herself to them in the long run. It wasn't that she doubted Areth'ryn's sincerity; the youngest member of Orun's noble family had a justified reputation for personal integrity. But her feelings for Anakin were undeniably intense, and with his affection for her, romantic or not ... well, Evinne wouldn't be surprised to see the two of them playing fast and loose with the rules at some point, even though she was pretty sure Ryn wanted more than just the immediate release they'd discussed earlier.

That thought made Evinne frown. It wasn't at all likely that Areth'ryn was going to get what she wanted from a Jedi Padawan, however warm his feelings for her might be. They were too invested in the Order; they spent too many years training to cut loose and risk it all now. A few had done it; but Skywalker wasn't radiating the kind of uncontrollable passion that would lead him to throw over the Jedi and all he knew for a woman, at least not for Ryn. And that was a problem. In the political sphere, of course, Clans Ardel and Orun were rivals, and Evinne cordially wished Ryn and her family to hell. Personally, however, she liked Ryn, respected her. The girl deserved a little happiness, if anyone ever did.

The hum of voices in the outer room died down, and Evinne felt Anakin leave -- the boy would be a nightmare at covert ops, he glowed like a beacon in the Force -- and Ryn's presence relaxed, fatigue overwhelming whatever else she was feeling.

Evinne thought about going into the living area and confronting her companion about Skywalker; but she couldn't see what good it would do, save to push Ryn's suppressed misery into relief. It wouldn't change the situation, and Ryn wasn't stupid: she had to know what the stakes were, how badly the deck was staked against her. Talking about it was pointless. So she stayed where she was, feeling Ryn slipping toward sleep, and thought painfully of Terch until sleep claimed her, too.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars! Wow! On the other hand, I'm feeling very possessive of Ryn and this story. Attachments and all that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ryn woke with a headache and sat up too quickly, making herself instantly and painfully dizzy. She clutched her aching head with one hand and the back of the couh with the other and squinted blearily at the room, trying to see what had disturbed her rest.

The door chimed again.

"Ungh," she said, standing up with a great deal more caution that she had used in sitting. She staggered gracelessly toward the door and slapped the release, ust as Evinne wandered into the room in her underwear. Ryn squinted a little harder. _Correction: in _my_ underwear._

Someone cleared a throat, and Ryn turned back to the open doorway to see Ferus Olin, holding a tray of food. He glanced uneasily from Ryn to Evinne. "If I've come at a bad time," he began, but Ryn waved the thought away.

"No, no, now is fine. Come in; Evinne was just about to put on some clothes." She spared Evinne a glare. "Her _own_ clothes."

"Your chest support is too small for me," Evinne observed.

"Yes," Ryn agreed. "That would be because it is intended to fit _me._"

Evinne peered at her breasts, sizing her up. "Are you done growing?"

Ryn ground her teeth. "It seems likely."

"You're young for it."

"Thank you. Now will you please surrender my underwear?"

Ferus looked troubled, standing awkwardly just inside the door. "Is this -- ah -- do civilian women talk this way all the time?"

"We are not civilians," Ryn said, still watching Evinne, "and no."

Evinne held out under her steady glare for a minute longer and then retreated back down the hallway, hips swaying in Ryn's plain black underwear. Ferus watched her go, clearly fascinated, and Ryn folded her arms and rested one hip against the back of the couch, waiting for him to recover.

He blushed when he saw her watching him. "I -- uh -- I'm sorry," he stammered. Embarrassment looked remarkably good on him. "I never saw, um ..."

Ryn decided to step in and save him from himself. Stronger men, or at least more experienced ones, had been reduced to stuttering admiration by Evinne's raw sex appeal. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "Evinne has that affect on most men." she nodded to the tray, which he had luckily not dropped in his distracted state. "Is that supper?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes, yes it is."

"Kitchen," Ryn said, and led the way.

Ferus set the tray down on the bar. "I brought some pacs of caf. I thought you might like some, if ... or there's tea, if you prefer."

"Caf is great," Ryn said. "I don't know about a pot. I haven't checked the facilities yet. I pretty much fell asleep right after you left." _Right after Anakin left. Again._

"You've had a rough couple of days," Ferus said. He glanced toward the doorway and lowered his voice. "I came to see what you wanted to do, since I knew you wouldn't be able to meet me as planned. Give me an address and I'll go alone."

"No," Ryn said. "You'll need me for a lure, if nothing else." She thought about it. "Actually, Evinne wold be perfect for this task, if only we could be sure we could trust her."

"If you don't know that, then I can't imagine who will," Ferus pointed out, but Ryn was pretty sure she could. She just didn't like it.

She drummed her fingers on the bar, trying to think of an alternative and coming up blank.

_Damn._

"Master Windu," she said, and Ferus started. "I want him to read Evinne."

Ferus frowned. "I thought you and Master Windu didn't get along."

"We don't often see eye-to-eye. But hes good at what he does. There's a shatterpoint here, and he's the best chance we have to see it."

Ferus nodded slowly. "You want me to talk to him?"

Ryn shook her head. "I'll do it. Just take Evinne off my hands for a while."

Ferus bit his lip. "How do I do that?"

Ryn thought about his poleaxed expression in the living room. "Use your imagination," she told him. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

The food from the Temple refectory was mediocre, but Ferus turned out to have a talent for fixing caf. He found a pot, and brewed it hot and strong, filling Ryn's cup with a kind of understated flair she found endearing, vaguely reminiscent of Obi-Wan, but without the polish. He handed it to her with a smile that bespoke satisfaction in a job well done, and a hint of something else she couldn't define, and when their eyes met over the cup on her first sip, his Jedi reserve cracked, just a little, softening the edges of his smile, and Ryn felt something catch between her ribs.

"Good caf," she murmured, putting the cup down because it appeared suddenly dangerous, and Ferus chuckled.

"Master Tachi is a real Wookie in the morning until she's had her caf. I had to learn this brew for my own protection."

Ryn smiled back at him. "I don't know much about Master Tachi," she said. "What's she like?"

"Impetuous," Ferus said. "Determined. Committed. And ... graceful. Watching her use a lightsaber is like a hymn from the Force." Ryn wasn't sure what that meant, but she nodded anyway. "She's a good Master, a good guide. I was lucky to be chosen by her."

There was real affection in his tone, more than Ryn had been expecting. She trailed a finger around the edge of her cup. "Would you say the two of your are close?"

"Oh, yes," Ferus answered, wholly innocent of any double meaning. "An intimate bond between Master and Padawan is absolutely essential. In a volatile situation, it can make the difference between life and death."

Ryn wanted to say that this sounded an awful lot like attachment, but she swallowed the thought and another sip of her caf and said instead, "So how does that work?"

Ferus took a couple of sips of his own before replying. "Well, all Force-sensitives can feel each other's moods and thoughts to some degree. You must have sensed this?"

"I have, yes."

"But when a Master and Padawan choose each other, they form a bond that is much closer, making it easier for them to read each other's thoughts and intentions. it's used to instruct, but also, for a Master and Padawan team, it allows them to operate as one in the field, so that there is no hesitation, only unity of purpose."

Ryn frowned into her cup, trying to find that kind of partnership in Anakin and Obi-Wan and failing. What was going on there? "This happens with all Master-Padawan teams? It is ... necessary?"

"It is pat of the process, yes," Ferus answered. "Some teams achieve a tighter bond than others, just as some Jedi are more powerful than others. But all teams must do it. Severing the bon is a part of the knighthood ceremony."

Ryn watched his face closely as she said, "I imagine that must be painful."

"I must be," Ferus said. "Master TAchi won't even talk about it. She says that the only way to prepare for it is to go through it. I still don't understand what that means."

"That must be confusing," Ryn said, following the echo of distress in his presence as much as his carefully controlled voice.

"I won't say I'm not curious."

_More like anxious,_ Ryn thought, but she kept that thought, like so many others, to herself. "Will it be some time before you go through the severance?"

Ferus shrugged, looking down into his cup of caf as though it held the answers. "Whenever I'm knighted," he said, trying too hard for an air of nonchalance. "Not long. Another year or two, probably."

Ryn squinted, reassessing. She'd thought him not much older than Anakin, a Padawan with several years of training still to go before he reached knighthood. "That's ... a bit young, isn't it?" she asked cautiously, and Ferus made a gesture of indifference.

"I"ve learned most of what Master Tachi has to teach me. I think the real reason she hasn't recommended me for the trials so far is that she thinks I'm too young to be on my own."

Ryn sipped. "That sounds frustrating."

"It's all right," Ferus said. "I mean, of course I'd like to be a Knight, but Master Tach isi a good mentor. And ... Jedi are alone so much of their lives. I'm enjoying this time, the connection, and I think Master Tachi is, too. There's no need to hurry."

Ryn saluted him with her cup. "I expect she is enjoying the excellent caf, as well."

Ferus clinked his cup against hers. "It's a small thing."

"But immensely comforting," Ryn assured him, bringing her cup back to her lips.

"You sound like Master Tachi," Ferus said. "I don't think she has ever been a very good ascetic."

"Some people aren't," Ryn allowed. "I imagine it must make being a Jedi harder."

"Yes." There was something closed in his tone that time, and Ryn forbore to press the issue.

They slipped into silence, sipping thir drinks. At length Ferus said, "I don't think your friend Evinne is going to join us."

"Friend is such a strong word," Ryn said, and sighed. "Would you like for me to go check on her?"

"Not unless you think she's plotting a daring escape," Ferus said. "I was more thinking that we should eat before the food gets cold."

"I'm tempted not to leave her any," Ryn said. "Besides, you need to spend time with her, remember? Charm her boots off."

"I'm still not sure how to--" Ferus began, but Ryn stopped him with a smile as she slid from her seat.

"You'll figure it out," she said. "And I think Evinne likes you. She finds you attractive, at least, which is a good start."

Ferus drew back a little. "I'm not going to _whore myself_ ..."

"Don't overdo the drama," Ryn told him. "I'll be back."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Guess what? George Lucas owns Star Wars, and he's not giving it to me! I just thought you should know.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ryn left to go check on her half-dressed fellow Lorethan, giving Ferus an excellent opportunity to admire her stride as her legs kicked out under a very brief skirt.

They were really good legs, but Ferus was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be thinking about that, or her butt, for that matter.

_Definitely not the butt._

He looked moodily into his caf and knocked back a gulp, too fast; it burned all the way down.

_Serves me right,_ he thought, feeling more morose than repentant.

It didn't help that he knew he was being unreasonable. He was a Jedi. If he found a woman attractive and there were no other impediments, he could suggest some unattached mutual pleasuring; or, if that didn't seem appropriate, he could meditate the feelings away. There was absolutely no reason for him to sit around, burning his throat on hot caf, irritated with a girl for nothing she could help. He hadn't known Ryn Orun long, but he didn't think she was a deliberate tease. His fascination with her was harder to pin down: more than physical appreciation, less than romantic attraction. He wasn't sure what to call it, but something had happened there in that bleak room in the infirmary as he watched her struggle for life. He'd been there when Master Che gave her the news that she most likely wouldn't live to tell her friend Skywalker goodbye, and he'd seen the silent tears leaking from her eyes, even as her strength slowly drained away.

He'd tried to comfort her by telling her that he had given Master Yoda a full report, and he'd tell Kenobi everything, too: Skywalker would be safe.

Her breath had hitched in her chest, and Ferus had held her hand helplessly, expecting it to be her last. But she'd held on, living on nothing but her own unshakeable will. She'd even managed a thin whisper:

"Tell ... Anakin ... I'm sorry, and I ... love him."

"The Jedi don't --" Ferus began, feeling like a cad even as he said.

"'m not a ... Jedi," Ryn had whispered, a trickle of blood escaping her lips, and Ferus had squeezed her hand.

"I'll tell him," he promised. "And I'll make sure we find whoever was behind that spy. I won't rest until we fix this."

But then Skywalker had shown up and refused to take no for an answer, dragging Ryn back when she let go to join the Force, in clear defiance of everything Ferus knew about life and death. Ferus didn't think Kenobi had noticed it -- he'd been too busy trying to exert some control over his desperate Padawan -- but for a minute or two, Skywalker had actually made himself the link between this life and the next, keeping Ryn's cells alive on one hand and reaching through the Force to hold on to Ryn on the other. And Ryn, impossibly, had responded. _Don't leave me,_ Skywalker had said, selfish as ever, and she hadn't. And Ferus, waiting with his breath caught for the Dark Side to come swirling in, had looked at that fierce, wretched, battered girl with something like awe, and heard Master Yoda's voice in his head: _Luminous beings are we, young Olin._

He hadn't had much time to meditate since then, but he was sure there was something important there, a message from the Force.

In the meantime, he was discovering that he liked Ryn on her own merits: he liked her slightly husky voice, and her restrained bearing, and the way her presence felt in the Force. He was pretty sure he did _not_ like her devotion to Skywalker, but it seemed he was the Chosen One, and Ferus had _seen_ him do the impossible, so he figured that might be impressive to a lot of people besides Ryn Orun.

_I hope he doesn't hurt her. He's so reckless, everybody knows he's reckless, and she cares too much. She has to get over that, let go the attachment. I wonder if Master Yoda--_

But Ferus' thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of their object, this time with Evinne trailing behind, now wearing (more or less) a complete outfit.

The blonde woman gave him a slight bow. "Good to see you again, Padawan Olin. I apologize for my earlier state of undress. I had not realized the extent to which Jedi would be discomfited by such casualness."

Ferus thought he could sense Ryn's hand in the apology, but he didn't quibble. "That's quite all right," he said gamely. "You have every right to dress as you wish in your own apartment. I apologize for staring."

Evinne smirked at him. "Sometimes a woman likes to be stared at. I take it as a compliment."

Ryn casually stepped back and brought her heel down on Evinne's foot.

"Right," Evinne said, wincing. "What I meant was: no apology necessary, Padawan Olin. I was not offended."

"Ah ... Than you," Ferus said, and Ryn came around to rummage bowls out of the cabinet for the soup Ferus had brought.

"I didn't think to bring butter for the bread," Ferus said, but Ryn walked past him to the conservator and slid open the door.

Ferus leaned to the left to look over her shoulder and blinked. Inside, there sat an unopened package of butter, a bowl of some bright red fruit, a wedge of cheese, and a half-empty bottle of blue-tinted milk.

"What?" Ferus said, not bothering to articulate his confusion any better.

"Anakin," Ryn said, as thought that explained everything.

_He came back?_ Ferus thought, but Ryn saw his expression and shrugged. "He must have stopped by his quarters to do a little raiding on my behalf."

She pulled out the butter and closed the door, but Ferus didn't miss the way her fingers lingered against its surface, almost a caress, before she stepped away, and he couldn't help the thought that she'd rather be touching Skywalker himself than the conservator he'd stocked.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't make himself say it. He knew he should, that he was being weak, that _somebody_ needed to tell her that Skywalker could never care that way, that he wasn't the man to pin her hopes on.

Or maybe Anakin _would_ care, and that would be an even bigger problem. Either way, Ryn's feelings were doomed.

But there was something in the way she moved, now, as she turned away from the evidence of Anakin's thoughtfulness: something more than mere physical exhaustion, a listlessness that made it seem as though she were working against the urge to curl inward -- that made Ferus reluctant to speak. Maybe she didn't need to be told. Maybe she already knew more about utter hopelessness than Ferus ever would.

And then, while Ferus hesitated, the moment was past. Evinne said something about the bread, and Ryn pulled herself out of her slump to answer, and the biter feelings receded for the time being, and Ferus could no longer see in her face the wistful girl who'd stood five-eighths of a second too long in front of a sparsely supplied conservator that should have been empty.

"Butter?" she asked him, as though the butter and its source meant nothing to her, and Ferus could almost believe he'd imagined the whole thing, except for her captivated glances earlier in the afternoon.

_Maybe I imagined those._

But ... no. His instincts led him to believe that Ryn was not as cool as she would like to seem.

The three of them ate together, making sporadic attempts at chitchat on neutral subjects -- Evinne had seen a couple of recent holonovels, and her descriptions of them smacked of dry, cutting humor; Ferus had read an _actual_ novel in the not-too-distant past, and he tried to share his interpretation of it with the two girls. He thought Ryn, at least, got it; but she ate her soup and bread with a dedicated air, and didn't contribute much to the conversation except in reply.

Under the circumstances, Ferus couldn't really blame her. So after dinner, when she moved to clear the table, he said, "I'll get his, Ry - uh, Miss Orun. And if you want to go out for a little while, get some air -- I'll keep Evinne company."

Evinne glanced from one to the other, clearly aware that Something Was Up; but she didn't push, just watched as Ryn thanked Ferus for his kind offer and made ready to leave, presumably, although she made no mention of it, to track down Mace Windu.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. I am not getting any profit from this work of fanfiction. But I had fun writing it. :)

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The Random Reader: Thanks for the r/r! Haha, you're right, the plot does move a little slowly ... I like to take my time ... heh.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Ferus turned back from watching Ryn go to find Evinne watching him with blue eyes that were a lot more thoughtful than he would have liked.

"What is it?" he asked her, trying to sound neutral instead of defensive.

Evinne nodded toward the door. "You like her."

"I don't know her well enough to like her or not," Ferus said honestly.

"You're intrigued by her, then," Evinne suggested.

Ferus thought about that for a minute. "I'd like to know her better," he said at last. "She's ... different, and sometimes a Jedi can learn much from what is different."

Evinne nodded, accepting this. "I'm sure that's true." She hesitated, a spasm of pain crossing her face even though her injuries had been treated, some of them healed outright by the trance. "There's still no word on my ... friend? Terch?"

She was shielding her feelings pretty well, but Ferus didn't need the Force to see the tightening in the skin around her eyes, the whiteness around her mouth. This Terch meant a lot to her.

"No word," he said, watching her face fall behind the mask of calm. "I have my commlink with me. Master Tachi will comm as soon as she learns anything."

Evinne shivered and closed her eyes. "When she comms, tell her I want to join the search," she said. "I know him; I can track him better than anyone you've got."

"Master Tachi is pretty good," Ferus said, "and you need rest. You were pretty banged up, not so long ago."

Evinne gave him a flat stare. "That must have been why you were in such a rush to get me to the infirmary."

_Ouch._ Ferus tried to cover his automatic flinch, by turning to put dishes in the sink. "I'm sorry about that," he said finally, wishing that Siri were here to explain herself, to say why she had a good reason for what she did.

"You're _sorry_?" Evinne repeated behind him, plainly disbelieving, and Ferus opened the tap and let water splash into the dirty bowls.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked finally, watching the water slosh around and spill over into the sink. "I can't go back and change the way things were handled. I know you are angry at the way you were treated, and I won't say you're wrong." _Even though you are a Force-sensitive, and anger is a path to the Dark Side._ "But Master Tachi couldn't have known that you were going to talk to us willingly. She was acting in the best interests of the Jedi, to protect one of our own, whose life has been threatened."

At his back, Evinne went very still. Ferus turned to pick up the bread knife from the bar and found her frowning at the countertop, thinking furiously.

"There's already been an attack, hasn't there?" she asked, her voice sounding oddly flat.

_Oh. Stang._ "A spy," Ferus said cautiously. "Orun managed to apprehend him." He saw her falling again, saw himself catch her, too little, too late. Saw the blood smear across the pedway where she'd landed. Her white-knuckled grip on the hilt of her lightsaber stood sark in his mind.

"... how she was injured, wasn't it?" Evinne's voice said, and Ferus pulled himself back to the present enough to nod vaguely.

Evinne sat down on a breakfast stool. "Stang," she said succinctly. "What a mess."

Ryn had never been to Mace Windu's quarters before, but she knew where they were because she avoided the area like the plague. She had been on Coruscant just over a month when she had decided that winning Windu over was hopeless and had begun a well-organized campaign of figuring out where he was likely to be so she could be anywhere else. So far, she had had a pretty good success rate; she rarely saw him any more, unless Mater Yoda called on her to attend both of them.

Now she was seeking him out in his quarters, on purpose. Ryn suspected that he would be forbidding, maybe even angry, but that wouldn't mater as long as he was willing and able to read Evinne and help her figure out what was going on. Ryn thought that there was a better than even chance that he would. he might regard Anakin with deep suspicion, and he definitely didn't think highly of Ryn, but he wasn't likely to refuse his help in saving the life of a fellow Jedi who might yet turn out to be the Chosen One.

Ryn stopped in front of the door, gathering herself to press the chime. Inside her head the months washed away, and she was standing on a landing platform with the cold wind of Coruscant's upper reaches whipping in her hair, roaring in her ears. The tall dark man who had come to meet them stood still in a churning welter of brown robes. He looked her over, clearly unimpressed, and then spoke over her head to Kit.

_"This is the girl?" _

_ "This is my sister, Areth'ryn Orun," Kit answered. This voice remained smooth, but Ryn could feel his tension._

_ "I will escort her to Mater Yoda," the man -- Master Windu, she knew now, but he had not introduced himself at the time -- said sternly, the faintest emphasis on _I_._

_ Kit stared back at him, implacable "I would like to speak with Master Yoda myself," he said. "I am, after all, leaving my sister in his care." _

_ Windu glowered at him. "The severing of family attachments must begin at once." _

_ Kit's voice turned dangerous. "The severing of family attachments must not begin at all. My sister is here to serve you, not to become you." _

_ Windu sized her up again. "As you wish," he said, but it sounded like a threat. _

The memory faded, and Ryn was back in a slightly chilly corridor in the Jedi Temple, the scrubbed air feathering its touch across her bare stomach. The corridor was empty, and she felt very small and alone. She pressed the chime.

Mace Windu opened the door barefoot, a look of surprise cracking his usual stern mask when he saw who it was.

"Ryn Orun," he said, correctly identifying her but omitting any honorific. "I was not expecting you."

_That makes two of us,_ Ryn thought. Aloud, she managed to say, "I -- I know that, Master Windu. I've come --" she stopped and swallowed hard, through a throat that was shaking "-- to ask for your help."

Windu stepped back from the door. "Come in," he said.

Mace Windu gestured to a seat and watched the young Lorethan take it. Even without the Force, he could have sworn she was trembling. Windu sat down across from her and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and tried, for once, to look a little less threatening as he studied her. They hadn't made a very good impression on each other that first day, and she had minimal training; there was no reason to frighten her out of her wits.

Even without Jedi training, Ryn held up pretty well. She sat up straight and met his gaze straight-on, despite her too-wide eyes and bloodless lips. But Mace sensed that she was afraid of something else, something that had driven her here, to see a man she didn't particularly like, a man who troubled and unnerved her.

_All right, Orun._

"You said you needed my help," Windu suggested, giving her a starting place.

"Ah -- yes. Yes, I did." Ryn's long, slender fingers clasped each other in her lap, whitening the knuckles. "What has Master Yoda told you about the arrival of one of my people, shortly after midnight this -- this morning?"

"Almost nothing," Mace said. "He asked me to find you new quarters to accommodate a roommate. No details."

Ryn looked nonplussed for about a second and a half; then she pulled herself together and soldiered on. "Right," she said. "well, this woman -- Evinne Ardel, whom you met before -- claims to have returned under a directive to protect the Chosen One, at all costs, by a plot to assassinate him, thereby permanently throwing the Force out of balance. I don't believe Evinne knows who the Jedi have hailed as their Chosen One, but surely you an see why I am worried -- concerned, I mean concerned -- for Padawan Skywalker."

Windu remembered the meeting with Evinne Ardel in the mess. She had flamed like a beacon in the Force: a hard, bright woman whose steely determination had denied all her softer feelings, assuming she had them. A far cry, in some ways, from the silent, white-faced woman he'd glimpsed this afternoon in the infirmary.

Otherwise, this was all news.

Windu looked hard at young Orun, quaking in his arm chair, staring back at him with wary but determined eyes. "I suspect that all this plotting has something to do with your recent brush with death?"

The girl's chin went up. "I apprehended a spy sent to discover the Chosen One."

_And attacked him,_ Windu surmised, but it was too obvious to say, and so he moved on. "Thank you for briefing me so succinctly. But why have you come to me?"

Orun blushed, very faintly. "I'm sorry, Master Windu. I was coming to that. I was -- am -- hoping that you might be able to read Evinne and tell me what you see. I can sense for myself that she s sincere in her concern ... but the larger picture eludes me. I can feel connections, but I don't know where they lead."

"Why not ask Master Yoda?"

"Because these connections -- you're the best at reading them. _ Shatterpoints, _you call them, yes? There is one here. I am sure of it. But I can't pin it down. And, Master Windu -- I know you don't approve of me. I know I have failed to earn your trust, your respect. But a fellow Jedi, maybe even the Chosen One himself, is in very real danger. I'm not asking for myself. I am asking for one of your own. When the stakes are so high, you can't -- _please_, Master Windu, you _can't_ refuse to help."

But she was clearly terrified that he would refuse, anyway. Terrified for her friend Skywalker to whom she was _much_ to attached. If the Council thought Anakin Skywalker had attachment issues ... _Spend five minutes with his new best friend,_ Windu concluded grimly. But Ryn Orun wasn't a Jedi, and she wasn't going to act like one. It was all part of whatever deal Master Yoda had worked out with the Lorethans who brought her here, a deal of which Mace was frustratingly sure he even now lacked the details. Even as a Jedi, he hated not _knowing._

He looked back at the girl seated across from him, a girl who considered herself an adult because, she said, her body was ready and because, she would never say, her people had needed an adult. He looked further, with the eyes of the Force, and Orun flinched once and then held still under his inspection. He examined her through the Force, and found that, unlike most beings, there wasn't much of a difference: she was still incandescently lovely, still trembling with fear, still resolute, and she still loved Skywalker galaxies too much for anybody's good.

Years later, when the galaxy had erupted into war and a holocam snaps a shot of her face as she smiles up at the newly christened Hero With No Fear, a reporter for the HoloNet News will seize upon that single image and call it the Face of Love -- a meaningless intended compliment from a reporter who had no way of knowing the truth and wouldn't have cared if he had -- and Mace Windu, watching the report in the situation room of a battered battle cruiser off Ryloth, will remember this moment, and her youth and burning desperation, and wonder whether she ever really had a choice -- if it was her destiny to love Skywalker as much as it was his to be the Chosen One. It is the kind of question for which there are no answers; Mace cannot even be sure how much of Skywalker's destiny is decided for him, or whether the brilliant, impossible young Jedi is great because he has chosen to become so. If, finally, it is a distinction without a difference.

But at this moment, there is only Mace Windu's choice. He can choose to do what is probably the smart thing and send Orun away to figure this out on her own ... or he can choose compassion, and follow her down to her new quarters and help her if he can.

He gets up and steps into his boots. "Lead the way."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, who sometimes does inexplicable things with it, like omitting blatant Anakin Yumminess. I try to fix this by posting fanfiction, but sadly am not making a profit thereby. That's just the way the cookie crumbles ...

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Anakin closed his bedroom door, sensed carefully to make sure that his master was still comfortably engrossed in his datapad, and reached into the box under his bed and pulled out the pieces of Ryn's illicit transmitter.

It was a simple device, probably not capable of sending even voice recordings, just a series of beeps coded to mean pre-determined things. _Call me_ and _need rescue_, most likely. No room for anything fancy; but Anakin had to admire its elegant simplicity, and, honestly, he wasn't sure Ryn's limited technical abilities would allow her to reliably manage anything more complicated.

He felt through the Force for the damaged chip and pulled it cleanly free. It was partly fused, as he'd suspected, probably as the result of a short in the circuitry. A little careful prying revealed the offending wire: a small exposed place that must have been overlooked in the original assembly. Anakin dug some electrical tape out of his toolkit and wrapped it so it couldn't cause any more damage. The fused circuit was beyond repair, however, so he tossed it casually to one side and filched a replacement, a little larger but sufficiently adaptable, out of one of the projects he kept on his bedroom shelves. Repairing faulty machinery had been the first thing he'd been able to do _right_ around the Temple, and he still did it better than anything else. It was what he did. He fixed things that were broken.

Except for Ryn. Ryn, he seemed to be breaking in new ways at every turn.

At first, he had just been hurting her feelings, in subtle but unavoidable ways. he'd told himself that wasn't his fault: he couldn't help it if he didn't harbor any romantic feelings for his friend, and the Jedi would never have let that go anywhere, anyway. Then he'd made it a little worse with his remarks about the unimportance of Lorethan diplomats. That had been awful. Anakin still didn't know what he'd been thinking. Actually, he did know: he _hadn't_ been thinking, which was how he got into trouble, half the time. And when they had almost managed to get past that -- thanks more to Ryn's capacity for forgiveness than to anything Anakin had done or said -- she had almost gotten herself killed trying to protect him. All right, so he'd been off-world when that happened. But still, it was _because_ of him, even if he wasn't directly responsible. And this afternoon, he'd drawn blood. On her _nose_. With his _hair_. That had to be a new record.

He really wanted to be with her right now, making sure she was resting, feeling her _aliveness_ in the Force. He couldn't get enough of that; it was such a relief, now, to feel the billions of tiny vibrations in her cells and that said: _all systems go._ But Ryn needed to sleep, not console a hovering, guilt-ridding Jedi Padawan, and if Anakin went up to her new quarters to make sure she was okay, he'd probably just end up hurting her again, in some new and inventive way that neither of them had thought of yet. Better to stay where he was and do something he knew he was good at. And if he couldn't actually go talk to Ryn, at least he knew he was helping her by fixing her equipment.

Ryn marched down the Temple hallways, Mace Windu keeping pace just behind her. That felt uncomfortable; she hadn't fully figured out Jedi precedent yet, but she knew that everyone but Master Yoda himself was expected to yield way to Master Windu, while Ryn herself could count on taking a back seat to pretty much anybody. The only person she walked with as an equal these days was Anakin, and that was because, at some point in their history together -- maybe after she'd come back injured from Ziro's palace and found him waiting on the steps of the Jedi Temple -- Anakin's attitude toward her had shifted, and he had begun to place their friendship ahead of whatever else was going on between them. He'd begun to see her as a person, rather than a problem, and so they had gradually abandoned Jedi protocol for an easy intimacy that tugged the rhythm of their footfalls into sync when they walked together and made formality an unwanted intrusion. It had no place between them.

Now, transgressing Temple propriety again with Master Windu, Ryn was reminded sharply of how unusual that was here.

She kept a steady pace until they arrived at her door, but Ryn couldn't help letting out a silent breath of relief when she was close enough to hit the door release.

They found Evinne and Ferus sitting in the living area, sipping tea thoughtfully. Ferus apparently was in the middle of some story about an unhappy encounter with a nest of gundarks when they interrupted; he stopped at once, placing his teacup carefully to one side, and roes smoothly to offer Master Windu a proper bow.

Evinne followed him to her feet, but only managed a wary incline of her head. "Master Windu," she said, not looking at Ryn. "It is ... good to see you again." She didn't sound noticeably sincere, but under the circumstances Ryn couldn't blame her.

"That remains to be seen," Windu said sternly. "Do not try to shield yourself. I do not wish to hurt you."

_Way to put her at ease_, Ryn thought. Watching Evinne's face, she said, "There are connections here that we cannot see. Our awareness of these currents began with your arrival, so Master Windu is going to attempt to read you in the Force, in an effort to trace some of these threads."

Evinne did not relax, but she nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

Ryn eased back a step in relief. She felt sure that asking Windu was the right course, but she had feared an unpleasant scene. Apparently, Evinne was willing to take the invasion in stride, as a necessary precaution.

Windu stepped forward and took Evinne's hands in his, while Ferus came around the couch to stand by Ryn.

There was a tense moment, during which Ryn felt the Force moving strongly in the room, surging like a tidal current in Mace Windu and flowing effortlessly through Evinne. Beside her, Ferus' presence grew deeper, heavier, and Ryn knew that he was drawing on the Force, too, feeling the aliveness and connectedness of the beings in the room. Ryn would have done the same, but she didn't bother. In situations like these, she had no need to consciously access the Force; her innate empathy already told her what the beings around her were feeling and doing, and she could feel the intensifying of their energy signatures as they drew strength from the Force. She waited, still and quiet, for Windu to release Evinne's hands and step away.

He was frowning, and as he looked at Ryn he shook his head. "I couldn't get a clear reading. Either Evinne is hiding things -- skillfully -- or there are some gaps in the Yinang's plans, so that the future is still uncertain. I sensed, as you did, that her desire to help the Chosen One is sincere, but I could find no shatterpoint. Just a blur of images. I assume many of them were from the firefight she escaped to come here. Some of them might have been of your home world."

"They were," Evinne said. Her eyes were tight. "I swear to you, I am not hiding anything. I would never jeopardize a mission of this magnitude by withholding vital information. It is critical, for the sake of the entire galaxy, that we stop the Blades of Light before it is too late. Any consequences that follow can be dealt with when they arrive."

Ryn didn't like that last sentence much; she thought a good translation of it might be: _I'll worry about getting my way after you've helped me to get what I need._

"Unfortunately," Ryn said in grim conclusion, "it doesn't look as though we have much of a choice. We'll all have to do our best to work together, for the moment. But I still have a bad feeling about the Yinang. A chill. Like the echoes of the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side has been growing," Evinne suggested; but Ryn wasn't convinced.

"No," she said. "This is something specific to Yinang. I felt it when I pulled the chain from your neck. I'm willing to concede that it may not have reached you, yet, but the touch of the Dark Side was very clear, stronger than I have ever felt it before."

Evinne frowned. "Are you sure you did not merely sense balance, an equality of Light and Dark?"

"_Ye_s," Ryn said impatiently. Lately, she sometimes felt she had been consigned to a destiny of always trying to convince people of things they didn't want to hear. "Master Yoda felt it, too."

"Oh, well, if Master _Yoda_ felt it," Evinne said sarcastically. Dimly Ryn was aware of Mace Windu and Padawan Olin looking shocked. "Because we all know he hasn't made any other mistakes."

"Stop it, Evinne," Ryn said, and to her own surprise her voice was quiet but steady. "Whatever mistakes Master Yoda may have made --" _and he is bungling this Chosen One business badly, I know he is_ "-- he is still a venerable and decent being, worthy of your respect. Also --" she took a deep breath "-- if you want to work on Coruscant, you will just have to learn to get along with Yoda and the rest of the Council. This is why I had you sent away before, remember? You were jeopardizing my directive here. So if you can't work with the Jedi, tell me now and I'll save the Chosen One myself."

"You really think you can?" Evinne asked.

Ryn shrugged, affecting a nonchalance she was far from feeling. "So far I've been more effective than anyone else."

Beside her, she felt Ferus tense, and knew he was trying not to point out than then she'd died.

He had a point, but Ryn was alive now, and she would have to worry about it later. First she had to bluff Evinne.

She held the older girl's gaze with hard eyes, trading shamelessly on her moral authority as a noblewoman whose integrity had always been beyond question. It was, after all, why _she_ had ben sent to Coruscant, instead of someone better, smarter, faster, more experienced -- _older._ The only person who doubted the youngest Orun's moral rectitude was Ryn herself, probably because no one else knew her private moments of conflict, the moments when she couldn't even find a right choice to be made.

Like now. Ryn was sickeningly aware that her current internally controversial choice might further endanger Anakin's life, which was upsetting because she could trade the galaxy to keep him safe, which was a moral problem all by itself. She rationalized her actions to herself by telling herself that if the Apocalypse came and the galaxy was destroyed because the Jade Temple and the Jedi Temple couldn't manage to work together, then saving Anakin this time around wouldn't do him or anyone else much good, even if he did turn out to be the Chosen One. She couldn't quite make herself believe it, but that was all right. she'd find a way to live with the guilt later. Right now she had to convince Evinne.

And either her shields were better than she had ever known, or Evinne was so blinded by her colleague's reputation as one of Loreth's most upright citizens that she just couldn't see the roiling conflict just beneath the surface, because she nodded slowly and dropped her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You are right, of course. I forgot my place -- and my priorities -- for a moment. If you -- and these good Jedi -- will forgive me, I will focus once more on protecting the Chosen One at all costs."

Ryn tried not to look as relieved as she felt. _Oh, thank the Force._ "My forgiveness you already have," Ryn said -- formally, because that was the register Evinne had chosen. She glanced sidelong at Windu and Ferus. _Come on, guys, don't make this harder. We still need her help._

There was a tense moment, then Mace Windu said, "And ours, of course," speaking for Ferus, too. That last bit seemed a little unorthodox, but under the circumstances, Ryn wasn't going to argue.

"If you will excuse me," Windu said, "I must meditate."


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: The fastidious reader will note a small inconsistency in the text here during the shower scene. Drabble for anyone who spots it. :)

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making a profit from this work of fanfiction.

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Mace Windu swept from the room like a churning in the currents of the Force, and Ryn unbent enough to slump forward and grip the couch's frame for support.

She felt eyes on her and looked up.

Ferus was watching her with unreadable brown eyes. "How old are you?" he asked her.

Ryn blinked, regrouping. "Ah .. twelve standard years."

"Thirteen within the week," Evinne said, "according to your file."

Ryn thought about it, sorting the days. Evinne was right. On the standard calendar, her birthday was coming up in ... oh, four or five days. "Hm, well, yes," she mused aloud. "I had forgotten that. Thirteen, then, or as good as. Why do you ask?"

'No reason," Ferus said, and Ryn frowned. That couldn't be right. Olin was far too careful, for too deliberate, to be asking questions for no reason at all.

Before she could formulate a question, however, his commlink chimed. Ferus switched it on. "Olin here."

"Ferus, it's Siri," a cool female voice said. "I am definitely on Terch's trail. It looks like he left the firefight with some injuries and is hold up somewhere in lower Coruscant. I've narrowed his probably location down to a sector about two kilometers square, sending he coordinates now. If you could bring the Ardel girl and help me sweep the area, I don't see why we wouldn't be able to find him and bring him in for treatment."

"Acknowledged," Ferus answered. "We will rendezvous with your shortly."

Ryn watched him sign off, then said, "Take me with you. I can help."

"No," Ferus said. "The three of us should be more than enough. The most useful thing you can do right now is rest and recover your strength. Those near-death experiences can really take it out of you." His eyes softened a little, looking at her. "You're no good to anybody exhausted. Get some sleep. We'll handle this."

Ryn didn't like it, but he was right. Weak and worn-out, she was more a liability than an asset. She nodded reluctantly. "All right, then. Just ... be careful."

"I promise," Ferus said, and led Evinne out the door.

Ferus tossed his head to get a strand of hair out of his eyes and took the opportunity to glance sidelong at the tall, blond young woman marching beside him. Her chiseled white face was set and still now, betraying no sign of the mixture of emotions that had roiled within her only moments before. She had gotten control of her feelings with surprising speed, given her lack of Jedi training, and either released them or buried them so deeply that Ferus could detect no sign of her inner turmoil.

Evinne was an enigma. Ferus wasn't sure how to regard her. In his defense, Ryn Orun didn't seem any too sure, either: fiercely protective of her fellow Lorethan one moment, she eyed her with mistrust the next. Although Ryn insisted that she believed Evinne's claims about coming to Coruscant only to help protect the Chosen One, Ferus sensed that she was wary of Evinne's longterm motives. And Evinne, rather than fighting this tendency, to all appearances accepted it as the natural order of things. She had not complained once since her arrival in the Jedi Temple, even when Master Tachi -- perhaps precipitately -- had determined to withhold medical care.

Ferus shuddered. If Master Tachi had not allowed him to go get Orun ... the interview might have gone to a very dark place. Evinne's determination, her refusal to be intimidated by mere physical pain, had been clear. Ferus had the uneasy feeling that she could have held out for a _long_ time if circumstances had demanded it.

Keeping pace beside him now, Evinne kept her feelings of fear and exhaustion well under wraps. Attuned to the Force as he was, Ferus still could catch only occasional leaks through her shields.

The two of them emerged into the same hangar bay where Evinne had been apprehended -- in the act of coming to the Jedi of her own accord -- some nineteen hours before.

Ferus put one hand on the door of an airspeeder and looked across it at Evinne. "Are you read?"

Evinne almost smiled. Time slowed as she met his eyes. "Let's do it, Padawan Olin."

Ferus found himself smiling in return.

With Ferus and Evinne and Windu gone, her apartment emptied of everyone but herself, Ryn dropped into a chair and put her head in her hands. Ferus was right: she was exhausted. She could no longer feel the aches where her bones were healing -- presumably they were now fully knit, good as new -- but instead she hurt _everywhere_. she pulled one hand from her throbbing temple and placed the palm flat against her aches, feeling the bones there. She had also definitely lost weight, an unwelcome but not unexpected side-effect of the rapid healing process.

She pushed off the chair, ignoring the protests offered by her weary leg muscles, and dragged herself to the kitchen, inspecting the shelves on a hunch.

Her instincts paid off. Anakin had put the packets of powdered protein in the cabinet next to the sink, where they would be convenient for glasses above and the water needed to mix them below.

"Good job, Skywalker," Ryn muttered, filling a glass and watching the pinkish, ostensibly fruit-flavored powder dissolve. She raised her glass in a toast to the absent Anakin and gulped down the thick mixture, struggling not to gag.

Apparently, her disgust had been palpable, because she could suddenly feel Anakin, rooms and floors away, focusing his attention on her. he felt worried. _I'm fine, Anakin,_ Ryn thought at him, swishing some clear water around her mouth to get rid of the chalky taste.

Anakin concern stubbornly refused to abate, and Ryn knew, even though she was sensing feelings, rather than articulated thoughts, that he was considering a trip to check on her.

_I'm _fine_,_ she thought at him, a little more forcefully this time. _I just need rest. And so do you._

Nothing. Then a brush against her mind, a little too rough, as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Ryn gave up on empathy and stalked back to the living area to switch on the comm unit. She found Anakin's code preprogrammed, just as he'd promised, and punched it in.

Anakin answered almost at once. "Skywalker here."

"Anakin, it's Ryn," Ryn said. "I can tell you're worrying, but stop. The only thing wrong with me is that I need sleep and I just choked down some of the worst protein mix ever made. Blech."

"Was it really bad?" Anakin asked with interest, and Ryn remembered that he was an adolescent male.

"Worse than Corellian food," she assured him, and listened to the husky warmth of his chuckle. "My advice to you is: try not to need it. Have you been in contact with Master Tachi?"

"No," Anakin said. "I'm sure she'll comm when --"

"No," Ryn said. "I mean, she already has. Ferus and Evinne have gone to rendezvous with her, just a few minutes ago. They're going to help her sweep for Terch. Apparently she has narrowed the area significantly."

"Oh," Anakin said. There was a short pause. "I should be out there."

"Not when you're the target," Ryn countered. "Besides, these are the preliminary stages. We might need you for other things later. Right now your job is to stay safely in the Temple, so I don't have a heart attack."

"You should have more faith in me." Anakin spoke lightly, but Ryn heard the undercurrent of tension in his voice and thought, _The legacy of Tatooine. Again. Always something to prove._

"I've got all kinds of faith in you," Ryn said. "It's those other guys that worry me." She waited until she could feel the edge ease out of him, then added, "Seriously, Anakin, the best thing you can do right now is lie low. We don't want you running around like a hero, drawing attention to yourself. There will be another time." A particularly vicious yawn made Ryn's ears pop. "Look, I'm dead on my feet. I'm going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. Comm me if you hear anything?"

"Promise," Anakin said, and signed off.

Ryn, anticipating a midnight comm, didn't bother to turn down the bed in the room Anakin had picked for her. Instead, se tugged off her boots and threw herself down on the couch, within easy distance of the comm unit. Tired as she was, she could have slept practically anywhere; she was out like a light by the time she finished curling onto her side.

She had only been asleep a little over three hours -- not nearly what her aching body demanded -- when the com unit woke her with its chime.

"Unnnh," Ryn groaned, rolling ot her feet and slouching over to slap the _receive_ button. "Orun here."

Anakin's voice answered her, sounding almost as groggy as she felt. "Master Tachi just checked in. They've located Terch alive and they're brining him in. I thought you'd want to know."

Ryn straightened a little, though Anakin couldn't see her. "Thanks, Anakin. Where do I meet you?"

"No need," Anakin said. "They're putting Terch into protective custody while they sort this mess out, but tonight he'll be in the infirmary -- in bacta, from what Master Tachi said. Whatever you want to ask him, it can wait until tomorrow."

"Anakin, I'm fine," Ryn said, sensing the protectiveness in his presence. "I've had three hours --"

"You're not _listening_," Anakin said, frustration rising in his tone. "We don't _need_ you. There's _nothing you can do tonight._ Get some sleep."

"But we really need to know what he knows," Ryn said. "Maybe --"

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," Anakin said, "but I'm about thirty seconds away from lecturing you on patience. Ryn, _there's nothing you can do_, except wait until Terch is treated and ready to talk."

Ryn grimaced. Anakin was right: if _he_ thought she was being impatient, she was really getting ahead of herself. But at the same time, so much could happen while Terch was in the infirmary. "Evinne will need me," she said, remembering the older girl's painful feelings where Terch was concerned. "I should --"

'No, you shouldn't," Anakin said, exasperated. "Evinne is a big girl. She can --"

"Ryn, this is Master Kenobi," Obi-Wan's voice cut in. "Anakin is right; there really is nothing you can do, for a few hours at least. I suggest you use this time to rest and recover from your own recent injuries. When things start to happen, they are likely to happen very fast. You'll need your wits about you."

_Stang it._ They were both right. Her overwhelming need to _do_ something was causing her to act irrationally.

_Which it can only do if I allow it to control me._

She breathed in energy and breathed out frustration. _Okay_.

"Master Kenobi, Anakin, I apologize. You are both quite right. I am not behaving sensibly."

"That's understandable," Obi-Wan said. "You have been under a great deal of stress. The important thing is for you to take good care of yourself now. If you don't, you won't be able to do as much later."

"I know," Ryn said, feeling defeated. "I just .. I can't help but worry that I'll miss something important." _That I'll fail Anakin. I came so close, last time ..._

"You have to trust others to do their jobs properly," Obi-Wan reminded her. "Terch is in good hands."

_Terch is not the one I'm worried about,_ Ryn thought, and sighed. Once upon a time, she had known how to trust other people. She had put lives in their hands -- not just her own, but other lives for which she was responsible. That was how Loreth _worked_: it was like a net, and each cross-point had to hold or the whole thing would begin to fall apart.

She was here to learn how to work _with_ the Jedi, not how to be an independent agent in the Temple.

"Okay," she said aloud. "You win. I am going back to bed. Let me know if anything comes up. Otherwise, I'll see you in a few hours."

But when she signed off, she did not go immediately to bed, or back to the couch. She went instead to the small refresher and stuck her head in the shower stall.

She grinned in pure, uncomplicated pleasure. It was a _real_ shower, not a sonic version. She made a bet with herself and eased the tap open. Clear water spilled out, not the recycled graywater at use for bathing in so many places. She hadn't had a clearwater shower since leaving Loreth, not even on Malastare.

The grin widened.

Ryn stripped off her clothing and threw the discarded items in the cleaner unit and stepped into the shower, easing it toward hot with her eyes closed in bliss. It felt so _good ..._

She dug around and found some Temple-issue soap and shampoo in a niche in the wall of the shower and lathered up, for the first time in months that felt like years.

When she stepped out of the shower, her skin was pink and her hair was wet and she finally felt, for the first time since coming to Coruscant, really _clean_. She dried herself, located the drawer where Anakin had tossed her clean underwear, and fell into bed with a sense of relief, more relaxed than she had been since that night in the garden where everything fell apart.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: if you look carefully, there is a tie-in to the drabble _You Changed Me_ in the bedroom scene.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not earning any profit from this work of fanfiction, although I am having a fabulous time. P

Playlist:

The Way I Am (Ingrid Michaelson)

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

Ryn slept late the next morning, waking o sunlight streaming through her windows and an overwhelming sense of _Anakin._ She assessed the sun-filled room briefly, decided someone would have commed her if it were worth being awake for, and snuggled more deeply into the covers.

The bed gave slightly under a new weight.

Ryn made a small noise of irritation and turned her face out of the pillow to investigate.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Ryn squinted, trying to focus her sleep-blurred eyes. "Anakin?" she croaked.

He smiled down at her and touched her arm, bared by her struggles with the blanket. "You were tired," he said softly.

Ryn was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she was wearing nothing under the sheet but her usual black underwear.

She shifted to face him more comfortably, trying to keep the sheet pulled up so he wouldn't see her bare chest and be shocked. She wasn't quite ready for Anakin to eye her naked body with appropriate Jedi detachment.

Her mouth felt dry and sticky. "What ... what time is it?"

"A little after eleven hundred standard," Anakin said. "Evinne is still down at the infirmary, by the way. She didn't want to leave until she had a chance to talk to Terch. Obi-Wan thinks they might have had some sort of romantic relationship."

"Oh! I'm pretty sure of that," Ryn said. "Although they may not have been exclusive."

Anakin raised his eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

Ryn tucked the sheet against her chest and propped herself on one elbow. "Polyamory is pretty common on Loreth, now. It wasn't always ... but the war changed things. We lost so many men ... Anyway, it's much more common for a man to sleep with several different women, who all do their best to get along with each other, for the obvious reason that we have many more women than men. I'm willing to bet, however, that Evinne wouldn't mind exploring alternatives." _Like, say, a Jedi or three._

"That seems ..." Anakin hesitated, clearly searching for a neutral expression ". . . very strange ... to me."

"The fallout from the war is affecting our society in new and sometimes troubling ways," Ryn agreed. "And it's happening so _fast_. I'm not sure what will last. I've heard of other societies in which polyamory was the norm, of course ... but we have never lived that way, as a people. Our entire family structure is changing."

"Change can be a good thing," Anakin suggested, and Ryn frowned.

"I know. But there's ... such a sense of desperation, back home. I don't think it can be healthy."

A frown began to form on Anakin's brow, and Ryn sank back out the pillow, shaking her head. "Stop that."

"What?" Anakin' expression shifted toward surprise.

"I know that face," Ryn said. "You're thinking of ways to fix this, but you can't. You are not responsible for all the problems in the galaxy. Let this one go."

"It is a Jedi's duty to help people," Anakin said, and Ryn groaned.

"Why are you here?"

"Oh. Right. They're going to take Terch out of the bacta in an hour or so. Master Obi-Wan thought you might like to be on hand when Master Tachi questions him."

"Oh," Ryn said, echoing him. "Yes, I do want to be there. Thank you for coming to get me."

"No problem," Anakin said. He reached out and touched the bare arm that held the covers clamped tight to her chest. "If you want to stay here and rest, that's fine, too. I can brief you afterwards."

"No," Ryn said. "Thanks, but I should be there. Listening to someone else explain is not the same. Besides, technically I am the local authority for any Lorethans in the Core, so I have a duty to Terch to be there."

Anakin looked troubled, but Ryn's sense of him did not tell her why. "What do you men, the _local authority_?"

"Well," Ryn said slowly, uncertain why this should be a problem but alerted by Anakin's tone that all was not well, "I am the highest-ranking Lorethan with a long-term assignment in the Core. So if any Lorethans passing through the area run into the trouble of some kind, theoretically I am the first person they should turn to for a resolution."

"How often does this happen?" Anakin said.

"So far, never,"Ryn answered. "I hope that means that any Lorethans in the Core are getting along just fine. But no one knew, when I was first assigned here, the extent to which my primary mission would restrict my contact with the rest of the galaxy, so it is also possible that, finding me difficult to access, transient Lorethans in this part of the galaxy have begun turning to someone else -- either Evinne, here, or one of our nobles in the Mid-Rim."

"The Jedi will not want you to continue acting as a part of your old society," Anakin warned her. "Family ties, especially, are forbidden."

Ryn remembered the first time she had met Mace Windu, and his disapproving stare. "The Jedi knew what I was when they brought me here," she said, with more strength than she felt at the moment. "I cannot be other than I am."

_Except for you. You changed me._

"You're right not to change," Anakin said, although evidence in support of this view was scanty. "You should be yourself."

"That's very loyal, Anakin, but I said _can't_, not _shouldn't_. Perhaps there are things about myself that I should change. But I will still be a Lorethan noblewoman at heart. I came here in part because of my duty to my people, and being here is not likely to estrange me from them." She hesitated. "I think sometimes the Jedi Council doesn't know what to do with that."

"You're different from what they are used to," Anakin agreed. "But I don't think that's bad. I'm glad you came to Coruscant."

She'd known he'd come to accept her, that he hadn't wanted her to die on his watch. But Anakin had never really said, before -- even as their friendship grew -- that he was glad she'd come. Unexpectedly, Ryn felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn.

"Anakin, I --"

Obi-Wan stuck his head in at the door. "Anakin? Oh, good, Ryn, you're up. I just wanted to say that if we want to make it to the infirmary with any time to spare, we had better not dawdle."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Ryn said. "I shall be ready in a moment."

Obi-Wan disappeared. Anakin squeezed her hand and stood up. "I'll let you get dressed," he said. "Oh, and I almost forgot -- we brought you some breakfast, too. It's in the kitchen, when you're ready."

"Thanks, Anakin," Ryn said, and watched him go.

Ryn got dressed, scrubbed her face, and downed three glasses of water in record time, and exited her room to find Anakin and Obi-Wan sitting on her couch. They looked up as she entered the room.

"Breakfast in the kitchen," Anakin reminded her, in case she had forgotten in the last five minutes.

Ryn ignored the burn in her stomach. "We should get going," she said. "I can drink a protein shake on the way there."

"But not nearly as satisfying as_ breakfast,_" Obi-Wan pointed out. "Go ahead and eat. We have a little time." He shot his Padawan an amused look. "Besides, Anakin will be crushed if you don't eat it. He made the omelet himself."

Anakin's cheeks reddened, but Ryn politely ignored that, choosing instead to quirk an eyebrow at him. "You make omelets?"

Anakin seemed to be finding the empty vase in the center of the low, round table absolutely fascinating. "Sometimes."

Ryn shook her head at him and turned the corner into the kitchen.

As promised, there sat a plate of food buttered toast accompanied by a cheesy omelet that seemed to incorporate a wide range of vegetables and -- Ryn was pretty sure -- some form of cured meat. It smelled wonderful.

Ryn grabbed a fork and a fourth glass of water and carried her plate back into the living area, already chewing. "This is really good," she told Anakin, talking around a mouthful of toast.

Anakin beamed at her, showing his usual delight in a job well done. "I'm glad you like it."

Ryn sank cross-legged to the floor, forking up a mouthful of omelet while transferring her attention to Obi-Wan. "So. Anything I should know before I see Terch?"

"Not really," Obi-Wan said. "I spoke with Siri earlier. I gather she found Terch in an abandoned building. He was deep in a healing trance, which suggests he is a Force-sensitive with some training." His eyes hardened a little at the end, accusing, but Ryn refused to give.

"Sounds like it," she agreed, keeping her eyes on her food. "Anything else?"

"Evinne told Siri he is a former smuggler who joined the Yinang only recently. She claims he has given up his smuggling activities since."

Ryn scowled at her toast. "Evinne might want to believe that. But that's not what I got from him at the club."

"You think he's still smuggling?"

"Small-time, probably. Creative tax evasion. A good many Lorethan pilots end up in that kind of work, if they live off-world for any length of time. It's a tough galaxy."

"Your government doesn't have measures in place to stop that sort of thing?"

Ryn chewed and reached for her water. "In theory, the noble houses are supposed to keep their clans in line, and provide for them. But with the upheavals of the last hundred years, it's hard. And Terch is from Clan Ardel."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up. "He's related to Evinne? I thought ..."

"We don't mate nearer than second cousins," ryn said. "Chances are good that their kinship is much more distant. In fact, aside from her father and brother, I'm probably the nearest blood relation Evinne has living."

"_You?"_ Anakin said. "How are you related?"

"Same great-grandfather," Ryn said. " A high king in his day. If the position comes open sooner, rather than later, Evinne and Kit will both be candidates."

"What about you?" Anakin asked, and Ryn shrugged as she polished off her omelet.

"Not if I'm on Coruscant."

Obi-Wan watched her thoughtfully as she chewed the last bite of toast. "You gave up a chance at the throne to come here," he said. It wasn't exactly a question, but there was uncertainty in his voice.

Ryn unfolded herself and pushed off from the floor. "It wasn't a _good_ chance," she said, heading for the kitchen. "And I didn't want the high seat. I can serve the galaxy better here."

"The galaxy?" Obi-Wan repeated, his voice following her. "Not your people?"

Ryn set the plate in the sink and ran water over it so the remaining traces of cheese wouldn't stick. "My people can ill afford to spare one of their last surviving nobles." It was more than just her rank. Ryn was one of the old kind, a lineage almost died out, now. She ought to be home, trying to find a husband, to ensure that it didn't all end with her and Kit.

Except she had to be here, on Coruscant, trying to hold the galaxy together.

No point in wishing for things to be different.

"So why are you here?" Obi-Wan asked her, and Ryn, backtracking through the living area on her way to use the 'fresher and clean her teeth, said, "Because no one else wanted to be and someone had to."

Anakin got up and followed her into the dim hallway. "But it could be someone else, right? I mean, you could go home if you really wanted to."

"And let Evinne take over here?" Ryn said, glancing at him through the 'fresher door as she reached for her tooth-cleaner. "No. My place is here." _And now there's you._ "It's just that I sometimes worry about what's happening back home."

'I know what you mean," Anakin said, suddenly glum, and Ryn knew he was thinking of his mother.

She rinsed and spat while she tried to think of something, anything, to say that would loosen the hard knot of grief and guilt her best friend carried inside. But there wasn't anything, any more than the there were words to make her stop worrying about the brother she'd left behind. So in the en the best she could manage was a sad little smile, for both of them. "I'll be out in a minute."

She took advantage of the facilities, located her hairbrush, and came out brushing her hair with a tie gripped between her teeth.

"Ready?" Obi-Wan asked when he saw her, and Ryn nodded and tossed the brush onto the couch, already pulling her hair into a braid as they went out the door.


	22. Chapter 22

Warning: This chapter contains graphic vomiting.

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars, in which people rarely vomit. I am providing balance, but I am not receiving any profit from this work of fanfiction. Tragic, isn't it? Send me feedback to ease my pain. :)

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

In the infirmary, Evinne straightened when she saw them coming. "Shorty! Are you feeling better? You were so tired ..."

"I'm fine," Ryn said. "What about you? Did you get any rest?"

"I grabbed a blanket in the lobby," Evinne said. "I think Ferus was up most of the night. Master Tachi sent him away to sleep a couple of hours ago."

Ryn nodded. She would rather deal with Olin than his master, but it made sense that Siri would want to be here for Terch's supposed awakening. "And Terch?"

Evinne shrugged, a too deliberately casual gesture to fool anyone, and stared bleakly at the bacta tank that held her floating friend. "They've kept him pretty well sedated so far," the golden-haired girl said, her voice steady but her eyes tight. "I can't tell much, except that his injuries are healing. Bacta does that."

Bacta, like so many other things, had been in short supply on Loreth.

"If his wounds are healing, then I have a no doubt he'll soon be fine," Ryn said, by way of comfort.

"What kinds of injuries did he have?" Anakin asked, and Ryn looked to her right to see him frowning at the tank in thought. "Any lightsaber burns?"

"No," Evinne said, frowning back at him even though Anakin wasn't looking at her. "But I only saw blasters when they attacked us. Several kinds, even some newer-model long-range weapons, but no lightsaber. Not that they needed them. Fill the air with enough bolts and nobody can deflect them all."

"So we could be dealing with a mind group that includes non-Force-sensitives," Obi-Wan concluded unhappily. He glanced at Ryn. "Any ideas?"

Ryn shook her head. "No. You didn't turn up anything in your library research?"

"Not on the Blades of Light," Obi-Wan said. "If we knew more about their operations style, I might be able to trace their funding, but even that has proven impossible so far."

Evinne transferred her gaze to him. "What kind of information do you need?"

"It would help to know their overall goals," Obi-Wan said. "Surely they don't exist solely to bring about the death of the Chosen One. That would suggest a merely religious or philosophical orientation. The fact that they are well-supplied with arms and willing use them would seem to indicate a paramilitary organization, rather."

Evinne nodded once, sharply. "You're right, Master Kenobi. I can get you some of that. I apologize for not briefing you more fully. I allowed myself to be ... distracted. I have access to a computer terminal?"

Obi-Wan looked at Siri.

"I don't see a problem," Siri said. "As long as one of us is present."

"As soon as we've had a chance to determine Terch's condition, then," Evinne said, sliding past the obvious mistrust unfazed.

"Agreed," Siri and Obi-Wan said together.

Evinne shifted her attention back to the bank of lights flashing on one side of the bacta tank, where the increasing rapidity of the flashes indicated that Terch was slowly coming around. She almost managed to hide her surge of affection. Ryn pretended not to notice the lapse.

Vokara Che came in and waved the onlookers back before adjusting some buttons. "Not long now," she informed them, and drifted off to do whatever it was she did when she wasn't tending wayward Lorethans.

Ten minutes later, a Togruta Padawan stuck her head in at the door. "Excuse me. Is one of you called Ryn Orun?"

Ryn turned to face her, startled. "I'm Ryn Orun."

The Padawan gave her a smile and held out a glass full of thick, distressingly slimy-looking liquid. "Master Che said for you to drink this."

Ryn regarded the drink with a kind of fascinated horror. "Did she say why?"

The Padawan waggled the drink at her. "Combined bacta and protein supplement."

_Oh. That would explain the slime, then._

She made herself reach out and take the cup. She lifted it in a brief salute to the Padawan. She even managed a sickly smile. "Bottoms up, then."

She tilted the glass to her lips, and took a sip.

It wasn't as bad as she had thought.

It was worse.

She gagged, hard, despite her best efforts, and everyone turned to watch her with varying degrees of concern.

But the Padawan was watching her expectantly, and Vokara Che demanded it, and she couldn't afford to pass on anything that would get her back in fighting shape faster, not with Anakin's life in danger.

She threw her head back, pinched her nose shut with one hand, and upended the whole damn glass down her throat, chugging hard despite the burning clench in her stomach.

She kept her head back for a few seconds after the last swallow, afraid to move for fear of vomiting. when she finally let her chin fall to its usual position, she found Master Kenobi regarding her with raised eyebrows. "That was ... impressive."

Ryn opened her mouth, then shut it, fast, as her stomach muscles heaved furiously, trying to spew the unwelcome substance. Ryn clamped her jaw resolutely shut and swallowed hard.

"Um," Anakin said, looking worried. "I don't think it's supposed to make you do that."

_You think?_ Ryn thought, misery making her waspish, but she didn't dare speak.

Siri watched her a beat longer. "Go get Vokara Che!" she snapped to the Padawan, her eyes still locked on Ryn.

The Togruta scurried away as Siri stepped forward and cupped her palm around Ryn's jaw. "She's having a reaction of some kind," she told Obi-Wan, speaking about Ryn as though she weren't there; but her eyes were touched with concern.

"A reaction?" Anakin said nervously, just out of sight behind her right shoulder. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know," Siri said. "We need Master Che. Ryn, can you throw it up?"

_Force, yes,_ Ryn thought; but then, between Obi-Wan and Siri, she caught a glimpse of Terch, beginning to move his limbs in the bacta tank. Ryn waved frantically in his direction, trying to redirect attention to more important matters than her quarrelsome stomach. "Terch!" she tried to say, but what came out was a strangled gagging noise, quickly followed by a vicious spray of omelet, bile, and bacta as she lost the battle against her insides.

It was without question the most graphic instance of any bodily function Ryn had ever seen, and she'd seen soldiers lose it in zero g bloodbaths. Nobody's person was sacrosanct. Effluvia was everywhere: spattered across her clothes, drenching Obi-Wan's boots, glopped over Siri's unitard, filling the air with the stink of acid.

_Acid?_ Ryn thought. _Can that be right? _

Somewhere she'd ended up on her knees in the muck; she put one hand down to steady herself as she struggled woozily to get her feet under her again and heard a wet slap an instant before the sensation of overheated slime registered on her skin. _Ugh._

Obi-Wan reached for her, dragging her to her feet with a hand under each armpit.

"Terch!" Ryn rasped, as Anakin reached out and wrapped a strong hand around her arm to steady her.

Evinne was the only one who listened, transferring her attention to the bacta tank. Everybody else was still staring at Ryn when Vokara Che came rushing into the room in a whoosh of robes.

"Force!" she exclaimed, taking in the general mess and Ryn's face -- which Ryn suspected had looked better -- with a glance. "What happened?"

"We think Ryn had a reaction to the drink you sent her," Siri said, surveying Ryn as though she were a new model of blaster that hadn't quite lived up to her expectations.

"What drink?" Che said, and the five of them exchanged looks, while on the other side of the room Evinne made a closer inspection of the bacta tank.

"What do you mean, _what drink_?" Siri demanded, and Evinne snapped her head around to look at them. "Six minutes ago a female Togruta Padawan came in and told Ryn you'd said for her to drink _that._" She pointed to the glass Ryn had dropped when she vomited with what Ryn thought might be excessive drama. It was hard to tell because everything seemed so wobbly and far away.

"I didn't send any drink, or any orders," Vokara Che said, stepping to one side to make room as Evinne stepped up behind her. "And as far as I know, there are no Togruta apprenticed to any of the Healers."

Ryn froze. Even the spinning in her head went still, holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Vokara Che would know. So either she was lying, or ...

"The security around this place is _awful_," Evinne said succinctly.

Siri whipped around to face her, and Anakin yanked hard on Ryn's arm, dragging her back out of the puddle of effluvia so he could step in front of her without slipping in the muck.

"What did you do?" Siri demanded of Evinne, her voice hard.

"_Tried to save your six,"_ Evinne snapped back. "Although you don't seem to be going out of your way to do it yourself. I wish I'd known anyone could _walk in and poison the Chosen One on a whim_."

Evinne was visibly angry, and Terch was actively flailing in his bacta tank. Ryn opened her mouth to say that Evinne couldn't very well be responsible for the drink, seeing that she had been under guard since her arrival. But the words were engulfed in a fresh wave of nausea, so that all she got out was a wretched croak before the heaves doubled her over.

The floor was coming up to meet her, but this time Anakin caught her before she hit, snagging his left arm around her waist while he wrapped his other hand hastily in her braid, pulling it out of the way.

Pretty much nothing else was out of the way. It wasn't quite as violent as the first uprush, but it was bad enough, and it wasn't mostly on Anakin. He dropped to one knee in the floor, easing her down, cradling her in his arms with supreme disregard for the fact that he was crouching in a puddle of the vilest-smelling liquid Ryn had ever had the misfortune of encountering.

A particularly vicious heave wrenched her into a full-body convulsion, and suddenly Ryn heard Anakin's voice in her head. _It's okay. I've got you. Just breathe._

Dimly Ryn was aware of Siri on her commlink, barking orders. But her vision was narrowing, graying at the edges. She reached blindly for Anakin, groping for him through building pain and fear. He dropped her braid and caught her flailing hand, slipping his fingers through hers, solid and warm.

_I'm here. I'm with you. Get it all out._

And Ryn did, in one last fierce spasm that emptied her stomach down to the bitter bile and left her weak and shaking in the floor, prevented from collapsing completely by Anakin's steady grip.

He brushed her thoughts lightly once more. _See? Better._

Ryn nodded weakly and let him haul her to her feet, still holding her carefully against his ever-more-lanky frame as though he saw nothing unusual in cuddling a woman who was pretty well soaked in her own bodily fluids.

Her vision was returning to normal as the painful convulsions faded into muscle twinges. Ryn risked a look around and saw Vokara Che coming back in, though Ryn didn't remember her leaving.

_Too busy redecorating the infirmary._

"I've handed the glass off to a lab specialist," she said grimly. "Soon we'll know exactly what that was." She peered at Ryn in concern. "In the meantime, I'd like to run a full analysis on you. Go to the--"

"_No_," Ryn said, interrupting and not caring. "Terch! He's ..." she had to gulp as a muscle in her throat twitched again. " ... and ready to come out," she went on doggedly. "I want -- _need_ -- to be here. I can--"

"No," Vokara said, interrupting her right back. "You have to be well yourself before you can do anyone else any good. Skywalker, take her down the hall to my examination room, please."

She felt Anakin's somber nod, his arm tightening around her as though he were afraid she might bolt. "Of course, Master Che."

Ryn let Anakin guide her out of the room and down a long white corridor to the exam room where she had had her physical on arriving in the Jedi Temple.

He eased her down on the bed. "Just rest a minute," he told her gently, pushing escaped strands of hair -- wet now with vomit and clammy sweat -- back from her face. "You're going to be fine."

The evidence for that was a little thin so far, but Ryn didn't see any point in arguing. She smiled up at him, but the concern in his eyes suggested that she didn't make it look very good.

"You want some water?"

She nodded; it still hurt to talk, her throat burning fiercely in the aftermath of her projectile vomiting.

He brought her a cup and she sipped slowly, feeling the bitterness wash out of her mouth.

"It doesn't add up," she said between cautious swallows. "What use is a poison that trigers a vomiting reflex, so you lose most of it? No assassin is that inept. And why _me_, anyway?"

"I don't know," Anakin said, pulling her hand into his. He seemed reluctant to stop touching her. "But if that Togruta was an impostor, then I think we can assume that the drink was not entirely benign."

Ryn shook her head weakly. "It doesn't make sense. We're missing something. Something big."

"I'm not arguing," Anakin said. "I just don't have any ideas. But Master Tachi has ordered a lockdown of the Temple. No one goes in or out. If that Togruta is here, we'll find her."

Ryn had missed that while she was emptying her stomach. "You can do that? Lock the Temple, I mean."

"Well, _she_ did, anyway." Anakin gave her a crooked smile. "Master Tachi doesn't let much get in her way."

"Thanks for the tip," said a voice behind him, and Anakin whirled away from the bed, his lightsaber igniting so fast Ryn missed the moment when he called it to his hand.

The young Togruta stood there, her face calm. Ryn couldn't get a reading on her emotional state. She edged to the left, Anakin matched her, keeping his lightsaber between the Togruta and Ryn.

"What was in that drink you gave her?" he demanded.

The Togruta smirked. "Why, didn't it agree with her?"

"Tell me _now_," Anakin snarled, angling his lightsaber toward her. His presence roiled like a thunderstorm, wild and fierce, and Ryn, easing slowly off the bed, realized with a sudden chill that she had never seen him really angry before. She had seen him annoyed, heated, upset ... but she'd never seen him like this, filled with a cold fury that whipped like forks of lightning through her sense of him. _Dangerous_.

Ryn felt her boots touch the floor and drew her own lightsaber, moving slowly because she still felt unsteady on her feet. "Anakin," she said softly. "We need to take her alive."

Anakin tensed, then nodded in acceptance.

She began to sidle past him, hoping to cut off the Togruta's route to the door, but Anakin took one hand off his lightsaber and thrust her back. "Stay behind me."

Ryn whimpered as his open palm connected with her very sore stomach. "Two lightsabers are better than one," she reminded him, edging left anyway.

Anakin shot her an exasperated glance. "I wish Obi-Wan would get here."

"Did you signal him?"

"Of course."

Ryn was squarely between the Togruta and the door now, lightsaber at the ready. Anakin began to move in on the Togruta. "Tell us what was in the glass, and maybe we'll go easy on you."

The Togruta made a rude gesture. Anakin growled, low in his throat, and advanced again, putting the end of his lightsaber between her chin and collarbone, bare centimeters from her red-skinned throat.

Ryn saw it a split second before Anakin. "Anakin, don't --" she began, but it was already too late. The young Togruta sprang straight forward, pointed teeth bared in triumph, eyes locked on the bare of blue light as she let the force of her momentum carry it through her throat.

Anakin gasped in horror and stepped back, but the Togruta's eyes were already dimming in death.

"I ... I didn't mean to ..."

"No," Ryn agreed, "but she did."

She moved out of her defensive position and deactivated her lightsaber. "We're going to have one hell of a time questioning a dead woman."


	23. Chapter 23

Author's note: This chapter dedicated especially to tiggeroxs and rated **Y** for **Extreme Anakin Yumminess. **

Disclaimer: Oh, dear. I still don't own Star Wars. Whatever will I do? Um ... make up OCs and send them out to play in the GFFA, without getting paid for it? Yep, sounds good. :)

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

Ryn felt a presence approaching and spun, already thumbing her lightsaber's activation switch.

Obi-Wan stepped into the doorway and stopped short, taking in the scene. "Padawan?" he prompted mildly.

Anakin lowered his lightsaber and Ryn belatedly realized that she shouldn't really be pointing hers at Obi-Wan. She flicked it off and eased her stance -- again -- as Anakin spoke.

"It's the Togruta from earlier, Master. She came back."

"She attacked you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"She committed suicide on Anakin's lightsaber," Ryn said. "Threw herself on the blade rather than face questioning."

"That's a problem," observed Obi-Wan, the master of understatement. "We could have used a little more information."

Ryn glanced at the body. "I think she knew that."

Vokara Che entered behind Obi-Wan, making him step forward, and the room became a little claustrophobic.

"Ryn?" she said, leaning around Obi-Wan to peer at her. "How are you feeling?"

Ryn swallowed cautiously. "Better."

"Good. Would you lie down on the bed, please?"

Ryn squeezed past Anakin, who was finally putting his lightsaber away, and he reached out with the Force and boosted her onto the exam bed. Obi-Wan scowled at him, probably thinking about frivolous uses of the Force, but Ryn just sent him a faint smile. "Thanks."

Obi-Wan, looking at her, appeared to relent, perhaps feeling that she was in need of any help she could get, with or without the Force. Certainly she _felt_ weak and needy.

"Do you know yet what was in the drink?" she asked Master Che, trying to lie quiescent as the Jedi probed her system with the Force, searching for injury or illness.

"Not yet. Patience, young one."

Ryn tried hard to unclench her jaw. Advising patience to a woman possibly dying of poison might seem callous to her, but there was no reason to suppose that vokara Che meant anything but well. Getting snipey would not help matters in the slightest.

Across the room, Anakin glowered at Vokara Che's back, evidently sharing Ryn's feelings about "patience" in the face of possible imminent death. Ryn tried to give him a smile, but she wasn't sure it came out right. She was still feeling distressingly weak and shaky.

"It's okay," she told Anakin, trying to be reassuring. "I vomited so fast, I couldn't have absorbed much. And we don't _know_ that it's poison."

Anakin gave her a hard, flat stare. Obi-Wan said, "Can you think of anything else it might be?"

Ryn scrambled for another explanation. "A prop," she suggested hastily, ducking a little to the left so she could see Kenobi's face around Vokara Che's flowing sleeve. "If she were only here for reconnaissance, she would need some kind of cover to get in the room. I could be having nothing more terrible than an allergic reaction."

"Uh-huh," Anakin said. "I've got some lake-front property on Tatooine ..."

Ryn sighed, giving in. 'I didn't say it was _likely_." Che did something, a little tweak in the Force, and the clench in her muscles eased a little, the tightness of her throat relaxing. Ryn breathed a little deeper and smiled her gratitude. "Thanks."

Che smiled back and touched Ryn's cheek. "I've seen more of you lately than I could wish, young one," she said gently, and Ryn grimaced.

"Me, too."

She shifted slightly so she could look at Obi-Wan again. "What was the situation with Terch when you left him?"

"He'd just been removed from the bacta tank," Kenobi said. "Another Healer had come in to take over his post-treatment exam. He wasn't up to talking much."

Ryn nodded slowly, mindful of a raw, burning sensation in her skull, the probable result of her sudden vomit-fest. "Evinne? Was she --"

"She was deeply affected," Obi-Wan said, "and, I think, relieved as well." He paused. "She is also very concerned about you."

Ryn started to say, _I'll be all right,_ decided there was no point in insisting on what she didn't really know, and subsided.

"It may be a little while before the lab result come in," Che said, her warm voice gentle in the silence. "There's a shower just down the hall, if you'd like to wash up." She glanced over her shoulder at Anakin, still covered in the evidence of Ryn's recent past. "You, too, young Skywalker. I'm sure we could find some temporary clothes for both of you."

A shower sounded wonderful. But ... "Actually," Ryn said, "I should get back to Evinne and Terch. He's a Lorethan citizen. I should be there." _And not leave either of them alone with Master Tachi._

"You should do nothing of the kind," Vokara Che said sternly. "I will allow you to go take a shower because I believe it might make you feel better, and because, frankly, you stink. But otherwise you are not to stir from this room, and if I have to sit on you to make you lie still and rest, then I will do so. Is that clear?"

Ryn's first response was to be annoyed. So much needed to be done, so much that she couldn't trust anyone else to do. But she couldn't take care of anybody unless she got herself back in fighting shape, and Vokara Che was only trying to do her job. Ryn drew a deep breath and tried to smile. "Yes, Master Che."

She felt Anakin shift, and turned her head to meet his eyes as he loomed over the bed. "You up for a bath?" he asked her softly, as though speaking too roughly might somehow shatter her.

If she wasn't going to get back to work, Ryn would just as soon go to sleep. But she did smell terrible. And she was awfully sticky.

"I'd like to get clean."

Anakin took her hand and steadied her as she got to her feet. "Take it easy," he advised her, and when he put his arm around her, she leaned into him and let herself be weak, just for a little while.

_I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't lean on him. He's got the entire Jedi Order for that. But _ohhhh,_ it feels good._

It even felt good when, at the showers, Anakin insisted on helping her out of her stained and stinking clothes.

"Anakin, you know I've been bathing myself for years, right?" she said as he moved to strip off her shirt.

He yanked the shirt up and over her head, and under other circumstances Ryn would have considered this a very good sign. "You know you don't have to be strong all the time, right?" he countered, gently teasing, and his hands slid down to unhook her brief skirt.

The skirt fell away, and Ryn was standing in front of her best friend in nothing but her underwear and boots. "Master Skywalker, I had no idea you could get a woman out of her clothes in under three minutes."

She'd expected a teasing rejoinder, but Anakin closed his eyes briefly, his fingers tightening on her hips. "I almost lost you back there," he whispered, sounding choked. "_Again._ I don't ... I can't ... I really need you to be okay." Eyes still closed, he trailed his fingers up the inward curve of her stomach to rest beneath her ribs. "It feels good to touch you, and know that you're alive."

Ryn unhooked the stretchy, supportive band of cloth that kept her breasts from jiggling around during bouts of physical activity and eased the straps down her arms to fall to the floor.

Anakin's eyes slid reluctantly open as he felt the brush of the fabric strike his wrists on the way down.

"So feel me," Ryn said, and tugged his left hand up to rest over her heart. "See? I'm all right. You're the one they want so badly to kill."

_And they were right here. It could have been him. They could have done anything: a bomb, a vibroblade in the back, anything._ Probably not poison. Surely Anakin's senses would prick in that case, the Force protecting him as it had not protected her, perhaps because she was too focused on other things to listen.

"I've never felt anyone's heartbeat before, except my mom's," Anakin said softly. Reverently. Ryn could sense him enhancing his perception of her through the Force, concentrating her aliveness. He slipped a little deeper into the Force, and Ryn gasped, because suddenly she could feel him, everywhere, inside her cells, a touch so unexpectedly intimate she couldn't even begin to react.

Anakin dropped his hand from her chest to wind his fingers through her hair, slipping from his braid now, a tangled mess. He pulled her close with a gentle tug of long, calloused fingers, and bent over her, just a little, so that his mouth was right next to her ear.

"I love you," he whispered, and his voice was ragged with a raw edge of pain, matching his presence in the Force, in her mind, in _her_. "I know I shouldn't, I know it's not the Jedi way, but I can't help it. _ I love you._"

Ryn's heart clenched. This wasn't the kind of love she'd wanted from him, the kind of love she'd ached for while refusing to acknowledge the desperate intensity of her longing.

And yet, surprisingly ... it was _good_. Maybe even _enough_. It was _enough_ to ease the knot in her throat so that she could wrap her arms around Anakin's strong, lean body and whisper, "I know. I love you, too. I've always loved you."

She cold still feel him in her cells, a pulsing radiance where usually there was stillness. She leaned against him, just for a minute, and closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him, Anakin's warmth and strength and love, glowing around and inside her, giving him back everything she had in return. Indulging in a rare moment of intimacy in this place of detachment.

Then, reluctantly, she stirred, turning her face so she could press her lips into his shoulder. "I'm not the one they're after, you know," she said softly. "You're in more danger than I am."

She felt Anakin disentangling, slipping from her cells. He shifted his stance a little so he could look at her. "It didn't look that way today."

"Maybe," Ryn said, "but it's only a matter of time. If they have this kind of access, sooner or later -- probably sooner -- they'll find what they need, and we don't have a plan in place to stop them from using it. That's not exactly encouragement to rest well at night, you know?"

"I know," Anakin said. "But it hasn't happened yet and I am _not_ helpless. I can handle it."

Ryn shuddered in his arms. "How? How can we fight them if we can't even _see_ them? If they can wander the halls of the Jedi Temple at will, unchallenged?"

"We'll find a way," Anakin said, as though his will was enough to make it true. _Maybe it is._ "We'll find a way, Ryn."

"Maybe you should go away," Ryn said, hating the weakness in her voice, the fear. "There are places on Loreth where you could be safe. I know my brother would take you in ... Obi-Wan and I could take care of things here, we could --"

"I'm not going to run and hide," Anakin said, his voice going hard, and Ryn winced.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." She breathed in and then out, trying to dispel her tension. "I just worry about you."

"I know," Anakin said, running his thumb over her shoulder in a rhythmic caress. "But I'm not going to run away. We're going to fix this." He held her eyes for a long minute, testing her for something -- belief, maybe, or at least acceptance. Finally the intensity of his stare eased, and he gave her shoulders a little squeeze. "Okay?"

"Okay," Ryn said, without much enthusiasm, and Anakin smiled at her.

"Okay, then. Get in the shower. And don't use all the hot water!"

So Ryn did shower, and she did leave some hot water, and when she shut off the spray and stepped from behind the door -- so old it was real glass, instead of the more common transparisteel -- she gasped in amazement and a shock of desire so hot and sudden that it almost made her forget the unsteadiness in her aching muscles.

Anakin was barefoot and shirtless, clad only in his leggings; he looked much as he had the day she caught him coming out of the 'fresher, only drier; but it was different, too, because they were friends now. They were _close_.

Anakin blushed, and Ryn struggled to fight her way from of blatant lust enough to break the tension of the moment.

"Anakin," she croaked, "you look ..." But words failed her. She could no longer think in Basic at all, and what she was thinking in Lorethan wasn't anything Anakin would want to hear. He was _essenze_, so young and strong and virile and so _Anakin_ ...

"You don't look so bad yourself," he told her, lips quirking, ignoring her lapse, and Ryn remembered with a start that she was a lot more naked than he was.

Her face flamed abruptly. "Um ... yeah. Towel?"

Anakin tossed her a clean one, rolled-up, and she caught it and shook it out to wrap around herself.

She tried to inject a note of teasing into her voice, despite the fact that it was a little more breathless than usual. "Can you just be shirtless all the time?"

Anakin grinned, picking up a second towel. "I don't think the Council would approve," he said, "but I guess I am going to take off my pants pretty soon, if that's any consolation." Unasked, he stepped forward and wrapped the towel around Ryn's dripping hair, folding it and tucking the ends under so that it made a sort of soggy turban.

The teasing glint faded from his eyes. "My mom had dark hair," he murmured. "Not as black as yours -- I've never _seen_ hair as black as yours -- but still." His eyes had that faraway look he sometimes got when thinking about the family he'd left behind, and Ryn felt her heat clutch, aching with the echoes of his pain. "We had a sonic shower when we moved to Watto's slave quarters," he went on, smiling faintly, "but about once or twice a year Mom would scrape together enough water to wash her hair for real. She'd do it in this big bowl at the kitchen table, and she'd let me watch and try to catch the water than ran off the ends of her hair."

Ryn didn't bother asking Anakin if he missed his mother, because she already knew. Instead she clutched the towel around her slim body with one arm, and the other she wrapped around her friend, leaning close, to rest her cheek against his smooth, hard chest -- the product, she supposed, of a lot of lightsaber practice. She lowered her shields a little, surrounding him in with warmth of her affection as much as in her embrace, and she felt his smile.

"Jedi aren't supposed to need comfort," he said staunchly.

_Yeah, right._ Ryn shrugged and almost lost control of the towel. "Can't hurt."

"All right." Anakin hugged her back for a second and then stepped away. "But right now, I need a shower. Someone threw up on me this morning." He gestured over his shoulder at the shapeless brown robes he'd found for them. "if the clothes don't fit, I can try to find others once I'm clean."

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Ryn said, turning her back politely so he could shed his remaining clothes in relative privacy. Actually, she was sure she would hate them, but there was no point in whining about it. She waited until she heard the water running behind her, and then relinquished her towel and stepped closer to take a look -- at the clothes, not Anakin, although he held a lot more appeal.

There was a set of tunic, leggings and tabard, much too big for her, that Anakin must be planning to wear himself, and an assortment of robes in various shades of brown that must have been for her. She picked one of the less voluminous ones, a tan-colored shift, belted at the waist, that hung to mid-thigh, and a pair of snug brown leggings to go under it, unnecessarily. Everything felt heavier than she was used to, and the wool itched. Probably there was supposed to be another layer to next to the skin, but Ryn didn't see any obvious candidates lying around.

She leaned against the wall to wait for Anakin and tried to think of something other than her fears for him. She stretched out with her feelings, trying to check on Evinne and Terch, several rooms away, and caught a hint of Evinne's relief, but not much more. She hoped that whoever had stepped in to take Master Che's place in supervising the recovery was a real Jedi, and not another spy.

Ryn closed her eyes against the thought. _How did that spy get in here in the first place? And how are we going to stop the Blades of Light from pulling off the same trick again?_ A thought chilled her. _What if it wasn't the Blades of Light at all? What if there are enemies all around?_

Anakin stuck his head out of the shower and squinted at her through the water running into his blue eyes. "Ryn? You okay?"

_I'm hyperventilating._

"I'm fine, Anakin. Just thinking."

Anakin scowled at her. "Well, _stop_. You're making me nervous."

"I'll do my best," Ryn promised, and he ducked back under the spray.

The trouble was, Ryn didn't have any way of measuring the possibilities.

_Maybe when I can finally talk to Terch myself ..._

And then Anakin stepped out of the shower, stark naked and dripping wet, and Ryn forgot how to think.

She was so mesmerized that it was a full ten seconds before she remembered to look away. What finally startled her into action was the sight of Anakin's faint, unexpected stir of interest. She jumped and spun to face the opposite wall.

Behind her, she felt Anakin's nausea of embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled, sulky with humiliation.

"My fault," Ryn assured him, still a little breathless. She picked up the wad of clothes and stretched one arm behind her head to hand them over.

"I didn't mean to -- to --"

"And I didn't mean to gawk like a schoolgirl."

Anakin hesitated. "It wasn't so bad."

"It was so _good_," said Ryn. "That's the problem."

"Um." She could hear the faint noise of cloth brushing against bare skin as Anakin dressed. "I only meant --"

"It's all right, Anakin," she told him, her voice softening. "I know what you meant. I was kidding."

"Oh. Well ... okay." There was a moment's silence while he figured out how to deal with that, and then he said, starting a new topic, "Do you think the lab analysis will be done yet?"

Ryn shrugged. "No way to know for sure. I'd rather know what Terch has to say."

"That, too," Anakin agreed. "Are he and Evinne ... you know?"

"I can't tell," Ryn said. "It seems likely, but she has expressed interest in other men since she's been here, so they're clearly not exclusive. I'm not sure how to interpret that. It may not matter, anyway."

"Love always matters," said Anakin, ever the idealist.

"I didn't say it was love," Ryn murmured, but Anakin pretended not to hear, and Ryn suppressed a sigh. If Anakin was determined to believe in a galaxy where beings only engaged in intimate acts as an expression of genuine love, she was more keen to make it come true than to explain to him why it wasn't the case.

Also, she felt entirely unequal to the task of explaining casual sex to a Jedi. Especially a Jedi she'd just seen hot and naked. How would that sound?

_You see, Anakin, you can have sex without being romantically involved. Take your clothes back off and let me explain. In detail. Several times. _

No, that wouldn't work out well at all.

Anakin was buckling his boots -- they'd both had some scrubbing to do in that area -- when Ferus Olin stuck his head around the corner.

"Oh, good," he said, stepping on inside. "You're both here."

_Where else would we be?_ Ryn thought, but she said, "I thought you were resting."

"I took a nap." His eyes tightened at the corners, looking at her more closely. "Master Tachi told me what happened. Are you all right?"

_No,_ Ryn thought. _I'm terrified._

"I'm fine." She ignored the sharp glance Anakin shot her, but Ferus saw it and frowned.

"Right," he said, apparently deciding not to pursue the matter. "Well, they're waiting for us in he lab antechamber."

"The lab has an antechamber?"

"Helps with quarantine or something. Anyway, this time it should be perfectly safe."

_Except if it isn't,_ Ryn thought; but it appeared that nowhere was truly safe, even in the Jedi Temple, so she was just going to have to live with it.

And keep a sharp eye on her best friend.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's note: FFN stripped my formatting last time, so I am re-uploading in hopes of correcting the problem. For those of you who are receiving duplicate "new chapter" notices, I'm sorry!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. I am not making a profit from this work of fanfiction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Anakin kept an eye on Ryn as they followed Ferus down the corridor. She'd said she was all right, but ... she looked so tired, so wrung-out. As though she had just gone through some horrible ordeal, her skin still bluish-pale.

_Please don't die, Ryn. I need you._

Ferus was talking to her sporadically as they walked, making conversation more than relaying any kind of information. Ryn didn't look all that interested, but she was taking it in stride. She answered Ferus with a slightly distracted air, and Anakin could tell the subtle hints that she was still worried about him, despite being the one just poisoned herself. She stayed just inside arm's reach of him at all times, never closer, never farther away. He could sense the tight-coiled tension in her muscles as though they were his own, feel the dull ache in her jaw from trying not to grind her teeth.

She answered Ferus mechanically, her senses trained to alertness, and the senior Padawan glanced at her in concern.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her. "You seem ... edgy."

_Edgy_ seemed like a good description, but Ryn just gave a tense little shrug.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just a little tense."

Anakin clamped his lips together so he couldn't contradict her out loud. Ferus might be hard to get along with, but he wasn't dumb. He'd figure it out.

But instead of saying anything about his conclusions, Ferus stopped in front of a set of transparisteel doors. "We're here."

Anakin followed Ryn and Ferus through, feeling Ryn's nervousness spike for the .5 seconds he was alone in the hallway. On the other side, he found a sterile, white-on-white room and a Mon Calamari healer seated at a counter, surrounded by Obi-Wan, Vokara Che, and Evinne.

"Terch?" Ryn said to the tall blond girl, and Evinne's expression froze.

"He is recovering well. Master Tachi and one of the healers are with him now."

"He'll be fine," Ryn assured her. "Men like him are tough as tree roots. And the healers here are very skilled." She lost some of her certainty on that last bit, either remembering her time in their care or thinking that they hadn't done quite enough.

"I've heard the medical care on Coruscant is good," Evinne replied neutrally.

Ryn nodded, shifting her attention to the Mon Cal and waiting, standing at parade rest. Anakin wondered if this was a Lorethan thing, if she felt it would be rude to ask, rather than waiting to be told.

"You had better go ahead and tell them," Vokara Che said to the healer, and the Mon Cal nodded.

"All right. According to the lab report, the drink in the glass really did contain both bacta and protein. It _also_ contained small amounts of a highly soporific substance known as nitrophsa, which tends to cause temporary weakness and disorientation in humans. It's effects on Force-sensitives have not been studied, but I can find no reason to assume that they would be different."

"So why the projectile vomiting?" Ryn asked. "It's not a very effective poison if you throw it up."

"Well," the healer said, blinking her huge Mon Cal eyes in disapproval of Ryn's impatience, "one of the main sources of a nitrophsa is in the leaves of the imbiath vine. According to your file, you're allergic."

Anakin caught the look on Ryn's face and said, "Memorable?"

Ryn winced. "Pretty much like what you just saw, except there was a rash."

Obi-wan shuddered in sympathy. Anakin said, "You have the weakest stomach."

"I was right about the allergies, though," she said, smirking a little at Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes.

Evinne ignored her. "What, you don't find the vomiting attractive?" she asked Anakin, beginning to enjoy the situation now that Ryn was clearly all right.

The subject of this bit of humor waved them both quiet with a distracted scowl. "That _smell_," she said, focusing in on the Mon Cal with that burning intensity she always showed when working on a problem. "My _vomit_ smelled ... chemical. Sharp like that. Was that the poison too?"

"It's possible," the healer said, blinking again. "Nitrophsa does have what humans sometimes call a sharp odor. The lab test didn't turn up anything else."

They were all silent, for a few seconds. Anakin saw Ryn biting the inside of her lip, thinking furiously. He doubted that she was worrying about the poison.

"There's not likely any lasting damage, then?" Obi-Wan said finally.

"I wouldn't think so," the Mon Cal said.

"Well, at least that's good news," Ferus said, sounding relieved.

Ryn shot him a scowl. "We have bigger problems," she reminded him. "Apparently Temple security is practically nonexistent. We could be crawling with spies right now. The place could be covered in assassins just waiting for someone to kindly point out the Chosen One."

There was a bite to her voice at the end, and Anakin remembered that it had been Ferus who'd said, "Skywalker," and almost gotten Ryn killed.

"There's no point in throwing recriminations around," Obi-Wan said, probably guessing what was on Anakin's mind. "We need to report this matter to Master Yoda. Perhaps he will have some ideas."

Evinne trailed up the stairs with the rest of them, watching Ryn pretend not to watch Skywalker. She doubted whether she'd ever seen such bad subterfuge, but since it was also unnecessary, she didn't think she ought to bring it up.

The meeting with Yoda, supposedly the wisest being in the galaxy, was a bit of disappointment, as he didn't seem to have any useful insights.

"Hmmm, troubling, this is," he said, when Ryn and Anakin had given their joint report: Skywalker trying hard not to sound angry, Ryn trying not to show her fear. "Mysterious it is, how a stranger could have gotten access to the infirmary unquestioned."

_We couldn't have figured that out on our own?_ Evinne thought, but nobody else seemed to find the remarks to be -- well, remarkable.

"Not just access, Master," Skywalker said. "She knew Ryn would be there."

Yoda's ears flattened against his skull. "Troubling, as I said, young Skywalker."

Skywalker bowed his head obediently. "Yes, Master."

Yoda peered at Ryn with something like concern. "Glad I am that not seriously hurt were you, young one."

Ryn executed a tight little bow. "Thanks you, Master Yoda. Yet I feel I must point out that, given the choice of drug, the intention must have been to take me alive, not to injure me. if I had not begun my gastric pyrotechnics, I would only have appeared woozy and been sent back to bed for rest. The Togruta could have intercepted and overpowered me easily, and I would doubtless now be undergoing questioning. And if that doesn't give you chills, it does me."

It was a long speech for the taciturn Orun, but it made sense. Evinne backed her up with a nod of agreement. Skywalker looked sick: evidently he hadn't thought that far ahead yet. That boy was a Living Force type if ever there was one.

Yoda hmmmed. "Sense, this makes. Right, you may be."

"Unfortunately," Obi-Wan pointed out, "this doesn't bring us any closer to dealing with the immediate threat."

"Um, actually ..." Ryn raised her hand. "I have an idea. But you're not going to like it."

Five pairs of eyes stared at her.

Ryn swallowed. "We're going to let them take me."

"_What?"_ Olin and Skywalker said together, for one in perfect agreement.

Skywalker huffed out a breath. "That is a _terrible_ idea. Ryn, you'll be killed."

"No, I won't," Ryn said, "because you're going to rescue me."

_That's a plan?_ Evinne thought, but the tension in Skywalker's ridiculously good-looking face eased a little. "Okay," he said. It was just the one word, but Evinne caught the look he gave her, and knew that it was more: it was an expression of trust in Ryn, and a promise to come through for her. Ryn's chin lifted, just a little, in acknowledgement.

After that, the rest was detail.

Evinne could see this, but apparently Master Kenobi couldn't, because there was a lot of acid in his tone when he said, "And having ingeniously foiled their last presumed attempt to kidnap you, how do you propose we tempt them into risking another member on Anakin's lightsaber?"

The boy blushed, evidently not liking the reminder, even though, according to both him and Orun, it had not been his fault. Ryn, by contrast, was unmoved.

"We'll just have to give them an opportunity too good to resist."

Obi-Wan folded his arms. "And you don't think they will suspect a trap?"

"They are angry zealots, Master Kenobi, not criminal masterminds."

The ginger-haired frowned. "Say you're right. How exactly is Anakin going to rescue you?"

"They'll take me back to headquarters for questioning," Ryn said. "Anakin will track me. And you will hit the Blades of Light with everything you've got."

Obi-Wan looked unimpressed. "And if they decide to kill the prisoner once they're under attack?"

"It's a risk," Ryn admitted, "but they have nothing to gain by it. You'll just have to act quickly."

Yoda poked her in the knee with his ginger stick. "Consider carefully, young Orun. Helpless, you will be, while a prisoner there."

Ryn swallowed hard and nodded. "I know, Master Yoda. I've been captive behind enemy lines before."

From the others' looks, only Skywalker knew the story. But Evinne had been there. She'd lived it.

"She can handle it," Evinne said, speaking up for the first time. "She had to hold out under torture, during one of the mercenary invasions. She'll be fine now, with help on the way."

Kenobi looked her over, clearly reassessing, while Ferus looked distinctly wary, as though being tortured might prove contagious. Even Master Yoda looked thoughtful. Only Skywalker remained apparently unmoved, probably because Evinne wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. He exchanged looks with Ryn and nodded fractionally.

"What I'd like to know," Ferus said, "is how the Blades of Light knew to target Ryn."

"The one that got away must have alerted them," Anakin suggested, but Ryn shook her head.

"I didn't give him my name."

"So there's a spy in the Temple," Evinne said. "I think we knew that."

"I doubt she was working alone," Ryn said. "This sounds like a big operation. I think we have to admit the possibility that the identity of the Chosen One has already been compromised." She got points for looking straight at Yoda -- clearly _not_ the Chosen One -- as she said it, but the air in the room fairly hummed with tension.

There was a long silence. Finally Yoda rapped the floor with his gimer stick. "Right, you maybe, young Orun. But no good this knowledge will do us, if plug the leak, we cannot."

"Maybe it doesn't matter," Evinne said. "If Ryn's plan works, then the threat will have been resolved, regardless. If it doesn't ... well, we can worry about that when it happens."

Ferus regarded her quizzically. "That's putting a lot of pressure on Ryn's plan."

_I know. I hope you know what you're doing, Shorty._

Kenobi didn't seem convinced. "You're putting a lot of faith in Anakin's ability to find you," he said Ryn. "Pinpointing the location of another being can be difficult, even with the strength of a Master-Padawan bond."

"I know it's a risk," Ryn said, "but I don't think it's an unreasonable risk. Anakin knows what my mind feels like. And I should be able to project, a little. We'll practice first, but he'll be able to find me. All I have to do is hold out until he does. And the Blades of Light will want me alive and talking, so that should make my job easier."

"When do you want to enact this plan?" Evinne asked. "Because it might look a little suspicious if you tried it tonight."

"I agree," Ferus said. "We should wait at least a few days. And maybe Master Tachi will find out some more information in the meantime."

Skywalker scowled at Olin for a second before transferring his gaze to Ryn, who frowned back at him.

"It should give us more time to practice," she said, sounding reluctant. "But every day we wait is a risk."

"Let's wait just two days, then," Skywalker said decisively. "Time to practice and plan the kidnapping."

"Excuse me," Kenobi said. "Do I get a say in any of this?"

Ryn grinned at him, irreverent. "Sure you do. We need you to help plan my kidnapping."

Down around their knees, Yoda chuckled. "Showing their independence, these two are, young Obi-Wan. But their _impulsiveness,_ you may need to restrain. The _beginning_ of a good plan, this is. But to consider further, we all need. Call you to meet again, I will, when thought, I have."

"Yes, Master," the Jedi chorused. Ryn joined them, but all Evinne managed was a belated, jerky bow.

They exited in a clump and began to spread out. Ryn was gravitating toward Skywalker -- no surprise there -- but Kenobi distracted Evinne with a slight bow. "if I may escort you to the Archives?"


	25. Chapter 25

Author's note: another re-upload, thanks to ffn's format-stripping. As far as I can tell, 24 and 25 were the only chapters affected, so ... we now return to our original programming. :)

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. This is a work of fanfiction, which is not making any money.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

Ferus fell into step behind Ryn and Anakin as they headed off down the corridor. Anakin tried not to let himself be bothered, but the older boy's presence felt somehow like surveillance, maybe because he had so often been disapproving in the past.

He wasn't sure whether Ryn had sensed his anxiety, or was just being friendly, but suddenly she dropped back a pace and half-turned to make a group of three, instead of two plus one.

"Are you coming with us?" Ryn asked him, her tone polite but no more.

"After what just happened in the infirmary, I thought perhaps neither of you should walk alone."

"That's very kind of you, Ferus," Ryn said, ignoring Anakin's look of scorn. "And I welcome your company." Anakin noticed she didn't say _we._ "But I think we'll be safe enough. Anakin and I can watch each other's backs."

Ferus raised one eyebrow. "Because that worked so well before?"

"Hey," Anakin said. "I had that Togruta cornered, until she threw herself on my lightsaber. I would never let anything happen to Ryn."

"Unless someone decides to poison her right under your nose."

Anakin felt his face reddening. Even the Masters hadn't known the Togruta was a spy. how could he? It just wasn't fair. He opened his mouth to set Ferus straight, but Ryn got there ahead of him.

"Stop it, both of you," she said sharply. "Is this how Jedi are supposed to behave? Sniping at one another and finding fault? I'd say you're acting like children, but I don't want to insult the children." She turned snapping green eyes on Ferus. "No one knew about the spy, all right? We were all duped. The entire Temple was caught out. No one person can take the blame."

"Placing blame is not the Jedi way," Ferus said, reaching for the high ground.

"Then _stop doing it,_" Ryn snapped back, her temper clearly fraying. She turned and smacked Anakin on the arm. Hard. "And _you_. My safety is not something you can brag about, nerfherder. Especially when I am _not safe_. There's real danger here, but you're worried about showing up Padawan Olin? I could have been killed while you were arguing about how well you could protect me! _I feel so safe._"

The bite in her tone surprised Anakin. They'd disagreed before, of course, but he didn't think Ryn had ever been really angry at him until now.

She grabbed a fistful of his tunic with her right hand. "So _you_," she said, giving the tunic a shake, "are going to walk me back to your quarters, where we will practice. And _you_ --" she raised her left hand and pointed at Ferus "-- are going to go brief your Master. And it may be a stretch, but both of you are going to try not to make assess of yourselves for the rest of the day. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Ferus bit out. he executed a sharp bow of farewell and stalked off, leaving Anakin alone in the hall with Ryn.

She eyed him expectantly, her hand still twisted in the front of his tunic. "Well?"

_Oh._ "Clear," Anakin muttered, his face flaming.

"Good." Ryn released his tunic and stepped back slightly. "Come on, then." Anakin fell into step beside her. He made it all the way to their turn at the end of the corridor before he couldn't stand it any more and said, "It's all Ferus' fault, anyway. He shouldn't have tried to blame me for that attack in the infirmary. It's not _fair_."

"Uh-huh." Ryn cut him a look from under her extravagant lashes. "And how old are you, again?"

The bite of betrayal cut into Anakin's soul, even as he told himself he was being unreasonable. "You're my friend. You're supposed to be on my side."

"And I would be, if you had a leg to stand on. You don't, and neither does Ferus. You were both behaving like spoiled brats. And I haven't had a lot of friends, but I'm pretty sure the good ones tell you things like that." Ryn stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to face him, brushing back black hair still damp from her shower. "Listen, Anakin ... good friends aren't blind to your faults. They see them and love you anyway. They help you to grow, because they care." She took a deep breath, and expelled it in a rush. "Look, all I'm trying to say is: I love you too much not to tell you when you're being an ass. I tell you _because_ I love you." She smiled slightly. "And I let you do the same, because I trust you." She looked up at him, all her feelings shimmering in her bright green eyes, and just a trace of humor emerged there, turning her sad little smile into wry amusement. "Got it?"

He wasn't sure he understood everything she'd said. But he could sense Ryn's honesty and compassion, and the depth of her feelings for him, and he knew that somehow all these things combined to make what Ryn said true. They made up the fabric of friendship between them.

Which meant it was time he contributed something.

Ryn was still watching him, her eyes warm and kind.

"Um," Anakin said. "I guess so." He hesitated. "I've never known anyone like you before."

The edges of Ryn's smile softened. "The feeling is mutual," she told him. "I guess that just means we'll have to figure it out together."

_I guess so,_ Anakin thought; but he knew Ryn felt it because of the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

She leaned into him in an unfamiliar gesture, a full-body nudge that brought them into contact, briefly from shoulder to boot-heel. Something in his sense of her -- a faint twinge -- suggested that this was a move she'd used before, back home, with someone -- or maybe _ones_ -- she was close to. He nudged back, and Ryn grinned. "So," she said, with an exaggerated wink. "Are you ready to take this back to your place?"

For answer, he caught her hands and started to run.

Inside the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters, Ryn tripped back from him a couple of paces as he turned to secure the door. "_You_," she gasped, breathless from laughter and exertion, "have too much energy, Padawan Skywalker."

"So I've heard," he told her, grinning. "But you like it, Mistress Orun."

"Hasn't Master Kenobi warned you at all about the dangers of rash assumptions?"

"He has taught me to follow my instincts." Anakin advanced on her, fake-menacing, and something suspiciously like a giggle bubbled from Ryn's throat as she backed away from him, rounding the corner of the couch.

"Your instincts tell you to menace helpless young women?" Ryn asked, clearly doing her best to look frightened instead of amused.

Anakin snorted, enjoying a couple of flashbacks to Ryn's performance in hand-to-hand practice. "You're about as helpless as a gundark."

Ryn gave him a wounded look, somewhat damaged by the fact that one comes of her mouth was twitching. "Are you saying I don't look delicate and ladylike?"

"Looks can be deceiving," Anakin said, ending to corner her between the sofa and caf table. "My feelings tell me not to underestimate your powers."

Another bubble of laughter. "Ah, but I'm no Jedi."

"And yet you have exceptional skills." Ryn was backing away along the couch. Anakin jumped easily over the caf table to block her escape.

Ryn began backing the other way. "And what skills are there?"

Anakin edged around her, forcing her to put the sofa, rather than the opening at her back. "I hear you told Madame Nu a dirty joke and get away with it."

Ryn's eyes widened. "No! Who told you that?"

Anakin grinned at her and eased a half step closer. "I have my sources."

He took the next half-step, forcing Ryn to back into the sofa, catching the edge of the seat along the backs of her legs and tripping her onto the cushions.

Except that she had anticipated his move, and on her way down she snagged a foot behind his right knee, buckling his balance and bringing him down on top of her in a sprawl.

"I win!" she announced smugly.

Anakin's face was pressed into Ryn's throat, though he was trying to hold his weight off her sore stomach. He inhaled the sweet, faintly citrus smell of her skin and tried to think of a comeback.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I ended up on top."

Ryn laughed in his ear, her breath soft in his hair. "I win twice."

"Wha -- oh. _ Oh._" Anakin felt something stir down low, an unexpected hot ache, and squelched the feeling ruthlessly, pretty sure that it didn't bear examination. He pinched Ryn on the arm as a cover. "You have a dirty mind."

He felt Ryn's slow grin. "Nonsense. I just know how to appreciate a good thing when it lands on top of me."

Anakin gaped into her hair, torn between embarrassment and amusement. "You _do_ have a dirty mind!"

Ryn's laughter trailed warmth through his consciousness. "And I'm not afraid to use it."

Amusement won out over embarrassment and Anakin laughed as he rolled away to his feet. "All right, you win. Superior firepower." He extended a hand and pulled Ryn up after him.

"Great," she said, heading for his bedroom. "Come on. I had an ulterior motive in coming back here."

"You mean ravishing me on the couch wasn't it?"

"That was just fun," Ryn answered. "The _plan_ was to exploit your skills."

Anakin reached over her shoulder and hit the door release to his room. "Excuse me? I think you just tried that."

Ryn rolled her eyes at him. "Now who has the dirty mind? Anyway, I meant skills you actually _have_." She stepped to one side to let Anakin enter first, and he shot her a mock-wounded look as he passed.

"Are you maligning my talents as a lover?"

"You can prove yourself later," Ryn said, following him in. "I want to make use of your mechanical genius first."

Anakin sat down on one end of the bed. "You need something fixed?"

"Maybe," Ryn said. "You have that transmitter from my room?"

"It's under the bed," Anakin said. "But don't ask me to fix it. I already did."

Ryn shut her mouth and blinked at him. "Oh. Well ... thanks."

"No problem. Just some fused circuitry."

Ryn nodded, but she had her Thinking Face on. "Now that it's repaired, could it be linked to the comm system in my room, to piggyback a signal?"

Anakin frowned. "I guess so. What are you thinking?"

Ryn sighed and rubbed her eyes, and for an instant Anakin could feel how tired and sore and worried she still was, despite their play a few moments ago. "I'm thinking I'd like to improve the security around here."

Anakin took a moment to consider that. "So you're going to call someone from back home."

Ryn looked worried. "I'd like to," she said. "Kit is MIA, or he'd be here already. You said he'd promised to come when he could, so Force knows what's happened there." She shook her head, clearly trying to shoulder her worries for Kit aside, and said, "There's a group out of Nevast -- one of the larger islands in the north -- that specializes in this. They are mercenary, of course, but they owe Clan Orun a favor. We sheltered them, two years ago, after a job that went very badly. The Jedi Temple will make them nervous, but I think they'd be willing to take the job."

"The Council would never agree to it," Anakin said.

Ryn winced. "I hadn't planned on telling them."

"Oh." Anakin thought about it. "So when you asked about piggybacking a signal, you meant 'in order to hide it from the Council'."

Ryn actually cringed a little. "Maybe?"

"Ryn, that's -- I can't do that. There's no _need_ to do that."

Ryn bit her lip. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have asked."

_You can ask me for anything,_ Anakin thought, and it was only partly his relief at not losing her. "Yes, you should," he replied carefully. "But it's not a good idea, Ryn. This is a Jedi problem; the Jedi should handle it."

Ryn gave up standing around looking worried and came to sit next to him on the bed, her shoulders hunching a little in the rough brown tunic he'd found for her. "I know," she said, and her voice was miserable. "But I don't have any better ones. And I'm scared."

Anakin blinked. "You had the idea about getting yourself kidnapped," he reminded her. "That was better." _Sort of._

"Well, yes," Ryn admitted, looking up at him, and Anakin was distressed to see tears in her eyes, "but only if you live long enough to carry it out. I want a plan that makes you safe _now_. Or at least safer, sooner."

Anakin tried to put his wounded pride at that remark on ice. Ryn needed comfort. She _didn't_ need to deal with his uneven feelings. He shifted closer to her, so their arms were almost touching, and said, "Well, I might be safer than you think. Jedi are pretty hard to kill."

"Hard but not impossible," Ryn said, dropping her eyes to the worn carpet. She sounded forlorn.

"I'm more worried about where your brother is right now," Anakin said, to distract her.

Ryn tensed, her shoulders going rigid for just a second before she got herself together enough to expel a shaky breath. "I don't know. Nowhere good. He's still alive. I think." She closed her eyes briefly, and Anakin felt the pain and fear and helplessness wash over her.

"Here." Anakin leaned into her a little, not quite like the gentle nudge she'd given him in the hallway a couple of mood-swings ago, but something close and said, "We'll get him back, Ryn. We'll find him."

"How?" Ryn asked, desolated, and Anakin put his arm around her. _I have no idea._

"We'll think of something," Anakin said. "I promise, Ryn."

Ryn relaxed for about a tenth of a second, then tensed again and shook her head. "No. Kit is not your responsibility, Anakin. He's tough; he can handle himself. And I have to focus on wrenching something like a spirit of cooperation out of the Jedi Council. And you have to focus of becoming a Jedi yourself. We have other duties that have to come first."

She sounded shaky, but determined, so Anakin didn't say anything else. Privately, however, he vowed to bring Ryn's brother back. Somehow.

Ryn stirred inside his arm, pulling away a little, and Anakin let her go.

"So," she said, clearly ready to change the topic, "we should practice."

Ryn wasn't very clear in her instructions -- Anakin got the feeling that maybe she hadn't done this a lot -- but it sounded as though they were going to do more of what they'd done in the hallway the day before: touch each other's minds, get used to the feel.

"You're felt my mind before," Ryn said, "so it shouldn't be that difficult. Usually I'm trying to keep people _out_ of my head. Letting you in should be easy. Just ... try to go easy at first, all right? I can feel you very strongly _without_ trying. You could do a lot of damage fast."

That didn't sound good.

"Damage like what?" Anakin asked, feeling a little nervous now.

"Well, you could destroy my mind and render me permanently catatonic," Ryn said, toeing her way out of her boots so she could sit cross-legged on the bed. "That would be bad."

_No kidding._ "I agree," Anakin said, a little shaken. "So how should I do this?"

"Well," Ryn said, thoughtful now, "remember how you touched me when I first got out of the infirmary? Very gentle, no sudden moves?"

_No_, Anakin thought, because he couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary, just an overwhelming desire to see his friend well again. But he said, "Sure."

"I think it's the same. Slow and easy."

So Anakin closed his eyes and looked at Ryn, a brilliant white light in the Force, stunning in her purity. The Force flowed through her undisturbed, hardly a ripple; but Ryn's fierce brilliance was refracted into it in dazzling, dancing prisms, like sunshine through clear water.

_So beautiful_, Anakin thought, and reached for that light.

If Ryn had really been a white light, of course, he would just have passed right through her. But the light was just a metaphor, as the river was just a metaphor for the Force. So when he brushed the light, it had something like a surface, permeable right now, to him. He pushed, ever so lightly, and suddenly everything _Ryn_ came into sharper focus, and he realized that he hadn't needed to do it this way, that he could have just focused on the awareness he already had of her to enter this new level of intimacy -- much as he'd done yesterday without knowing what he was doing.

He sank a little deeper, trying to get used to the feel, trying to pick out some feature that would make her mind recognizable at a distance.

The dull aches of old losses. Worry for her brother, a nagging prickle that never really stopped. A bright-hot, searing tear of pain that Anakin shied away from because he sensed himself inside that wound.

_I always hurt her._

There were other wounds inside her: some healing, others scarred, none except the one he'd made that were still bleeding. And in the middle of all that pain, flashes of joy: scenes of a clear bright sky, a sea viewed from cliff-tops. He could feel the cold wind whipping wild through her hair, taste the spray on her lips. Other memories rose, tinged with love and sweetness: a dark-haired boy who had to be a younger Kit, other things he didn't recognize. Himself, laughing, at several different times and places. One memory caught at him, because he couldn't place it from the other side.

She'd come down to the Archives late because she couldn't sleep; and then, sensing his presence nearby, she'd detoured to see what he was up to. In Ryn's mind, he remembered the nighttime stillness, the soft noise of her boot heels on the stone floor.

_She found his study booth and peeked in._

_ "Anakin?" _

_ But he was asleep with his head beside a datapad, and Ryn entered quietly and picked it up._

_ "Galactic History. Well, that's a broad topic." Perspective shifted a little as Ryn shook her head. "Was that Master Kenobi's idea?" _

_ She sighed as she looked down at him, drooling on the desk. "You're never going to make a diplomat," she said softly. "You're too honest." _

_ She moved to put her hand on his shoulder and wake him, and Anakin remembered with her the moment when she changed her mind and reached out, tremulously, to stroke her fingers through his hair instead, seeing and feeling with her perceptions. He remembered the silky warmth of the strands in her fingers, glowing like aurodium in the artificial lights. _

_ He remembered the shaking, deep inside, as she stepped back, swallowing hard to push her feelings down, and leaned over to grip his shoulder._

_ "Anakin, wake up." _

Anakin pulled back, certain he hadn't been meant to see that intensely private place, and released the Force to look at Ryn for a moment on a purely physical plane.

Tears were bright on her cheeks, leaking from beneath closed eyelids.

Suddenly worried, Anakin reached out and touched her hand. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Ryn shook her head, blinking her way back. "I mean, you weren't too rough."

_So that's a _yes_,_ Anakin thought. He swallowed. "Do you want to try again?"

"I think we'd better."

So he plunged back into the Force and into Ryn, and tried to concentrate on feelings this time.

The old aches were still there, the gaping agony of the one fresh wound, the effervescent joy. The choking fear that gripped her throat: a terror of what the Blades of Light might do.

The tough resilience of her determination, the will that held all these things together and made them work.

But none of these things were really what made her _Ryn_, although Anakin thought maybe the determination came closest. It was what he associated with her, anyway.

Anakin sighed in frustration and in the bedroom Ryn reached out and took his hand, sharpening his sense of her.

_Relax, Anakin. You don't need the essence, only the flavor._

But he sensed something, the hollow feeling of disappointment, and eased his way after it to find a discouraged feeling.

He pressed her there, and heard her reluctant voice in his mind: _Maybe there is no real me. Just a collection of pain and joy._

_No_, Anakin told her, _that's not true._

He turned inward and searched for the things that meant _Ryn_ to him.

_Safe_. Ryn was a safe place for him, always.

_Steady._ Ryn was hard to shake up, harder still to force off-course. When Anakin was in danger of letting his emotions run away with him, Ryn was there to even him out.

_Like Obi-Wan?_

No, not like Obi-Wan, who accepted his feelings, and then released them into the Force. Ryn lived in the face of her feelings: the pain of unrequited love, the brief flashes of joy in an otherwise dark sky of a life. Obi-Wan was ... remote. Ryn was so present it almost hurt.

Sometimes it _did_ hurt.

And this, suddenly, was how the pieces fell into place for him. Ryn rejected detachment as the easy way out. She felt everything and kept going anyway, indomitable.

She chose to love, knowing it would hurt.

After the short life of loss she'd led, detachment would have been an easy retreat: the urge to withdraw, to protect herself.

Faced with loss, Ryn chose to love.

Anakin remembered her standing on a balcony overlooking fountains, smiling up at him, reckless in the artificial sunlight.

_You do what you have to do, and I'll feel what I feel._

Except now he knew she was really saying, _I choose to love you anyway._

_This is you,_ he told her urgently. _This is who you choose to be._

_What am I supposed to be seeing? _

You._ You love so much, unconditionally. Not because you have to. You choose it._

_ I'm not as sweet or courageous as you're making met out._

_ Yes, you are. You're beautiful inside. This is how I see you, how I'll know you anywhere. _

_ Oh. Well, if it helps you remember ... Anakin? _

_ What?_

_ You're beautiful inside, too. _


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars, and would certainly never do anything like this with it. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Review replies:

The Random Reader: Aww, thanks. Watch out for the innuendo here, too ... :)

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

After Ryn shifted and tried to scratch surreptitiously for about the fourteenth time, Anakin sighed at her.

"Are you developing a rash, after all?"

"What?" Ryn stilled. "I don't think so. Am I turning funny colors?"

"You keep scratching."

Ryn blushed. "Oh. I'm not used to the fabric. It's a little scratchy."

"Oh." Anakin sat back, thinking. "Hold on."

"It's fine, Anakin. You do not have to fix the entire galaxy." Ryn sounded torn between amusement and concern.

"But I want to fix the things I can." He got up and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a worn-thin tunic that had once been dark red.

He held it out to her. "Here."

Ryn eyed it dubiously. "That's a _shirt._"

"It will be longer on you. And it won't be scratchy."

"Good point." She took it from him, still a little skeptical, and headed off to the refresher to change.

She came out wiggling her bare toes, her other clothes tucked under one arm. "Well? What do you think?"

It wasn't that much shorter than the minikilt he was used to seeing her in, but it was thin enough to show the outline of her body, and there was something unexpectedly visceral about seeing her in his clothes.

Anakin swallowed. "That depends. Is it itchy?"

"No, it feels nice. Soft." Ryn lifted the loose collar to her face and sniffed it. "And it smells like you."

Anakin grinned at her as she set her folded-up clothes on his study chair. "Is that good or bad?"

Ryn wrinkled her nose at him above a smile. "It's good until you go through lightsaber training, and then it's bad."

_Sunshine beat down ruthlessly on Anakin's fair head, another day on Tatooine, but he didn't mind the heat -- he was free, for an hour or two, anyway. He reached out to take his companions hand._

_ The little girl shrieked and danced away. "Boys stink!" she shouted at him, half-laughing. "And slave boys stink twice!" _

_ Anger flamed, hot as shame, in Anakin's chest. "Do not!" _

_ "Do too! You're dirty! My mom says I'm not supposed to touch you! She says there's no telling what I might catch."_

Back in his bedroom in the Jedi Temple, Ryn frowned at him. "Anakin? I didn't mean ... everybody smells a little after a good sweat. I ..." Her voice trailed away and she regarded him nervously, gnawing at her lower lip.

"It's fine," Anakin said, a bit more roughly than he'd intended.

_It's not her fault._

"It's _not_ fine," Ryn insisted, still watching him with those green eyes that saw too much. "I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to, I was only teasing, but I did. I'm sorry."

Anakin closed his eyes briefly, not able to erase his memories but trying to push them away. Ryn wasn't to blame for Tatooine. She had never called him a filthy slave. He wasn't a slave any more, he was a Jedi. And Ryn wasn't the kind of person who would laugh at a little boy's inability to find water to bathe, slave or otherwise.

He opened his eyes and saw Ryn standing with one foot on the other, huge green eyes on his face, and he knew she'd seen more than he would have liked. But she didn't say anything about inner conflict or the ghosts of his past. Instead she offered him a hesitant smile that reminded him of her first wariness with him, the way every flash of warmth had been earned in those early weeks, the way he'd had to coax smiles out of her reserve. "We should practice more soon," she said. "But in the meantime, there's this engineering test that's going to blow my six. Want to help me study?"

Anakin tipped his head at her. "What engineering test?"

"Um, well ... While you and Obi-Wan were gone, I signed up for a course in starship engineering."

Anakin blinked. "_Why?_"

"Master Yoda suggested a class to keep me busy, and that one looked interesting. Besides, Orun Shipyards builds starfighters. I figure I ought to know something about the family business."

"But you're no good with machines!"

"Well, I wanted to get better. And starship engineering might prove useful someday. You never know when the ability to repair a hyperdrive could come in handy."

Anakin couldn't argue with that. "Do you have a manual for the course?"

"I think you might be able to access it from the comm terminal," Ryn said. "Some of the other students talked about using it that way."

When Obi-Wan returned to his apartment, still trailing an impressively focused and energetic Evinne -- who had turned out to be an inexperienced but determined researcher -- he found Anakin in the kitchen with Ryn, making dinner. Ryn was, inexplicably, wearing nothing but one of Anakin's old tunics, and Anakin was chopping vegetables with one hip against the counter, looking more relaxed than Obi-Wan could even remember seeing him.

"Is that dinner?" he asked as he came through the doorway, and felt an unexpected pang as he saw his Padawan stiffen, just a little. If he hadn't seen him before, Obi-Wan wouldn't have noticed anything, but now he knew: Anakin had finally been able to release, for a little while, that constant live-wire alertness that Obi-Wan found frankly exhausting. And it hadn't been Obi-Wan who had slipped the tautness from his finely-toned muscles, made him feel easy for once.

His gaze slid to Ryn, and saw in her face that she'd noticed the change that came over Anakin.

She didn't think he was handling his Padawan well, and Obi-Wan had a sinking feeling that she might be right, but he didn't know how to do any better.

"Did you find out anything useful?" she asked him now, easing them past the moment with unexpected grace.

Sometimes, even after he'd come to know her so well, Ryn could still surprise him with her instinctive courtesy.

"We didn't find anything really new," he told her, with a quick glance at Anakin, who had resumed his chopping after the briefest of pauses and was pretending nothing was wrong. He had a feeling that Anakin did that a lot. "But Evinne's intelligence was very thorough, and I think we may have something on Ziro's new weapons trade."

"Ziro again." Ryn shook her head. "There's something not right there. He's carved out a nice slice of the Coruscanti pleasure market. It's high-gain and low-risk. Why would he want to get into weapons, of all things?"

Evinne frowned. "More money?"

"In the Core? The money here is in decadence, not destruction. And Ziro has been very successful, specializing in beautiful boys."

"Beautiful boys?" Anakin repeated, his face darkening, and Obi-Wan caught on. _Oh. Slavery._

Evinne explained it anyway. "Male pleasure slaves, mostly humans. He runs some houses, of course, but the word is he also sells or hires them out to private clients."

"But slavery is_ illegal_ in the Republic," Anakin protested, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes at Anakin's seemingly indestructible naivete. _How could a boy from Tatooine be so innocent? Have so much blind faith in law and justice? And how can I bear to destroy that bright light inside him? How can I possibly justify showing him the ugliness of the galaxy?_

"Most of Ziro's ventures are illegal," Evinne pointed out, apparently unconcerned by any considerations of Anakin's determined, misplaced faith. "But in this case, I think the cover is a hiring service for personal assistants, which of course is perfectly legal. I suppose the type of assistance is not stipulated." She snorted at her own joke. "And there are a lot of customers in the Senate, or so the rumor says."

"That's despicable," Anakin said, glowering at Evinne as though it were her fault.

_Maybe it is. Maybe it's the fault of all the beings who accept the way the galaxy is. The ones who have learned to live with corruption. Like me._

"I'm not defending the practice," she reminded him, not rocked by his anger in the slightest. "I'm not one of Ziro's biggest fans, remember?"

Anakin's expression faded toward sullenness. "He should be stopped."

"No argument here," Ryn said. There was a tired look about her eyes, as though she'd done a lot of aging in these last few days. "But we have other priorities at the moment." She rubbed the frown from her forehead. "When we've gotten the Blades of Light threat squared away, when the Chosen One is safe -- or as safe as a Jedi can be -- then we can worry about Ziro. He's not going anywhere." Ryn dropped her hand and turned, lackluster, to stir the pot behind her. "Were you able to trace any of the group's financial backers?"

"No," Obi-Wan said. "But Evinne said they had at least two high-end grenade launchers. Those don't grow on trees. I've left a research request with Madame Nu."

"Grenade launchers?" Ryn repeated, the frown back. "That sounds more like preparation for an assault on the Temple than for the assassination of one man."

"Man?" Evinne said sharply. "I thought the Chosen One was a kid?"

There was dead silence in the room for a slow count of three. Then Ryn said, carefully, "You know how they are about ages here. It takes them forever to declare anybody an adult."

Evinne blew out a slow breath. Her presence in the Force seethed with frustration. "Fine. Have it your way. You're thinking they plan an attack on the Temple itself?"

"That would be suicide," Anakin said firmly. "The Temple is impregnable. No one is that crazy."

_You probably are,_ Obi-Wan thought, but he kept it to himself.

"I wouldn't underestimate their insanity," Ryn said. "And they've already gotten someone in once that we know of."

"Olin is checking that out," Evinne put it. "He's been going through the Temple with a fine-tooth comb. If there are any more breaches, he'll find them. I know you said no Padawans, but I do like a man who's thorough." She flashed her fellow Lorethan a slightly wicked grin.

"Well, you'll just have to like them from a distance," Ryn said, leaning to one side so Anakin could dump some vegetables into whatever she was stirring.

"Awww, you're no fun," Evinne pouted, as Ryn resumed stirring and Anakin picked up a different vegetable and began peeling it.

"It's a big galaxy out there," Ryn said, with no notable sympathy. "Slice those really thin, would you, Anakin?" She adjusted the temperature under her pot. To Evinne, she added, "Surely you can find one or two men who appreciate the value of a job well done."

"But so few with Jedi stamina," Evinne countered, her grin spreading.

Obi-Wan tried to pick his jaw off the floor while Ryn tossed Evinne a jaded look, unfazed. "Life's tough."

Evinne heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Skywalker's out too, then?"

"Next time I catch you making a grab for his ass, I'm going to kick yours," Ryn assured her. She sounded fairly cheerful about it.

"Well, it's a nice ass," Evinne said reflectively, and Anakin dropped his knife into the sink with a clatter. "Is he giving it up to you, then?"

"Sadly, no," Ryn said flatly, peering into her pot with a dissatisfied air.

"Shame," Evinne murmured, watching Anakin dig his knife back out of the sink and rinse it. She edged around the table, toward Ryn. "How about I just grab _your_ ass? Save us all some time."

"Who's _us_?" Ryn wanted to know, but then Evinne closed the gap and cupped a hand around Ryn's right butt cheek under Anakin's tunic, laughing her low, throaty laugh.

Ryn did not look impressed. "Classy," she said drily. "_Now_ you're wasting my time."

"Aw, come on." Evinne gave Ryn's rear end a little slap and let her hand drop. "Living in the Temple, with all these toned and lonely Jedi? That's got to get under your skin a _little._"

"Apparently not as much as it does yours." Ryn leaned over and snagged a slice of vegetable from Anakin's chopping board and bit into it. He waggled his knife at her and she waved back with the vegetable, unconcerned. "Was there a reason why you thought _now_ would be a good time for this conversation?"

"Well, the Jedi have to get their happy somewhere," Evinne said, entirely unrepentant. "I thought maybe they'd like to watch."

Despite the highly inappropriate nature of their conversation, Obi-Wan had to smile. He hadn't had much opportunity to see Ryn among others of her own kind -- whenever he was around her, she was out of her element, although he supposed she'd become comfortable with Anakin. Despite their rocky start, the two of them had managed to build a true friendship. It was a little too intimate for Obi-Wan's taste as a Master ... but it was also the kind of bond beings all over the galaxy valued and longed for. Something that each of them would most likely have found in greater quantity if their destinies had not brought them to the Temple, because they were both warm, loving people.

He'd seen Ryn tease Anakin from time to time, and considered it a departure from her usual reserve. But now, watching Evinne needle Ryn in a similar vein, he had to wonder if perhaps this were a more normal form of interaction for her, a part of her culture that she'd missed.

He forgot, sometimes, that although Ryn was something of an outsider in the Temple, there had been a place where she truly belonged.

"So," he said, changing the subject before it could get any raunchier, "did you two practice this afternoon? Finding each other through the Force?"

"Yes," Anakin said, putting the last of the vegetable into Ryn's pot and reaching for the bread basket. "I'm getting better."

"You'll find me," Ryn assured him. "In the morning we'll do a couple of runs with me actually hiding, so you have to come find me. And we'll make sure Evinne or Obi-Wan is nearby each of us, so we have backup if another intruder does show up."

"Sounds like you've given this some thought," Obi-Wan noted.

Ryn shrugged. "We're only going to get one shot at this. We have to make it count."

"Let's hope it works." He refused to think about what might happen to Anakin if it didn't, the danger his Padawan would be in. He didn't want to think, either, about what it would do to Anakin if he was finally unable to trace Ryn. Anakin had so much power, but he still had so much to learn. And finding one being amidst the trillion on Coruscant ... well, that would not be easy.

But if Anakin shared his Master's concerns, he gave no sign. "Don't worry," he told Ryn. "Whatever happens, I _will_ come for you."

Ryn didn't look relieved. "I know," she said. "That's what worries me. It's going to be dangerous."

Anakin's mouth set in what he probably meant to be a hard, angry line, but which the shape of his full lips turned into a regrettable pout instead. "I can handle myself."

Ryn cast him a troubled look as she reached into the cabinet for plates. "Just be careful, okay? I've lost so many people in my life. I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't," Anakin said, but his voice had lost his edge. He'd gone from resentful to reassuring in the time it took for Ryn to frown at him, vulnerable as all hell and twice as dangerous. "I promise."

Obi-Wan glanced at Ryn, who was giving Anakin a grateful-but-still-anxious half-smile. _Ryn Orun, you play dirty._

What was it Quinlan used to say? _Can't argue with results._

Ryn's results were impressive.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm Ltd. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

A/N: I know it's been a while since the last update -- over a week! I've been rewriting the final chapters of Gravity and mapping out the sequel. I hope the material makes up for the wait, but ... well, you can let me know that with feedback! :) Anyway, here's the latest:

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

Ryn's cooking was fairly impressive, too. Apparently she'd told Anakin about a favorite dish sometime during the afternoon and they had gone rummaging in the Temple pantries to see if they could create a reasonable facsimile. They'd used it as a chance to experiment relaying information without words, Ryn projecting flavors and textures and Anakin picking the nearest approximation available.

The end product was a dish of stir-fried seafood and vegetables that Evinne and Ryn both declared a little saltier and not quite as sweet as the original, but still definitely recognizable. Anakin seemed to regard it as needlessly exotic, probably because of the seafood. He'd never managed to grow entirely comfortable with eating things that lived their entire lives in open water: he couldn't help thinking of it as a wild extravagance. Obi-Wan had given up explaining to him that many worlds were practically covered in water: what Anakin knew to be fact didn't seem to translate itself to his palate.

The girls made half-hearted efforts to engage the Jedi in conversation over the dinner table, and Obi-Wan wondered if this were another piece of their cultural heritage: an impression that dining should not be conducted in silence.

"So," Evinne said to Anakin. "I hear that you entered the Temple a little later than most Jedi. Where were you before?"

"Tatooine," Anakin said shortly.

Evinne brushed a strand of golden hair back from her face. "I've been there a couple of times. There's a spaceport in Mos Eisley that is ... lively. Ever been there?"

"No." With reluctant civility, he added, "I grew up in Mos Espa."

"Damn," Evinne said. "Sex and violence. Did the transition give you whiplash?"

"I always dreamed of becoming a Jedi," Anakin told her, which of course was no answer at all.

Evinne nodded, not contesting the evasion. "So what do you miss most about home?"

Instead of reminding Evinne that the Temple was home, Anakin said, slowly, "My mother."

Evinne's blue eyes thawed a little. "You have family back home?"

"Just my mother."

"I assume the Jedi don't encourage visits?"

"Attachment is forbidden," Anakin replied, but his voice had that hollow tone that Obi-Wan knew meant he was reciting, rather than speaking from his open, too easily engaged heart.

Evinne looked at Ryn, clearly realizing that she had blundered into a sensitive area, and Ryn, sitting by Obi-Wan, shot her an exasperated look -- _oh, so I have to fix this?_ -- but she leaned right and nudged Anakin's elbow with her own. "Evinne used to have a holo of you in her bedroom."

"What?" Evinne and Anakin said together, and Obi-Wan almost dropped his fork. Evinne shot Ryn a glare. "Since when?"

"Since I've known you," Ryn said. "The one of the Podracing arena? He's two places to the left of that Dug, the one who always raced so dirty."

Evinne blinked. "The human?"

Ryn looked at her with contempt. "No, the Rodian. Of course, the human."

"Right. Sorry. Dumb question." She glanced at Anakin. "You raced?"

"I won," Anakin said, that arrogant light in his eye. "The Boonta Eve Classic."

_Pride is not the Jedi way, Padawan._

"That can be a tough race," Evinne said. "Who was flying?"

Anakin listed names and Evinne asked questions. She seemed to know something about several of the racing pilots and their styles, and to remember seeing clips of at least one of Anakin's races. Some of the questions were answered by Ryn, who evidently knew the story well enough to fill in the details Anakin didn't think to mention.

Which had to mean she'd heard him talk about it before, probably more than once.

Obi-Wan had never asked Anakin to tell him about any of his Podraces on Tatooine, not even the last one, the one that had saved Naboo and won his freedom.

Every being at the table knew more about these critical events in his Padawan's life than Anakin's own master.

He had excused himself by saying that Anakin did not like to remember Tatooine, that it made him unhappy. But now, watching Anakin gesture animatedly as he wrangled with Evinne over the advantages of some sort of drive system Obi-Wan had never heard of, he had to admit that Anakin had always been willing to talk about the good times, that he had often seemed withdrawn because he believed Obi-Wan didn't want him to share.

Because, if he were honest, Obi-Wan often _hadn't_ wanted him to share, hadn't wanted to deal with the messy tangle of emotions presented by his all-too-human Padawan.

_What would have happened, if I had been more open with him in the beginning? If I'd tried to understand him more and correct him less?_

These were the kinds of questions that could never be answered: there was no going back, only moving forward.

Years later, Obi-Wan would wonder why he never thought of _forward_ as an opportunity to change course. How he managed to watch Ryn tell his Padawan "I don't want to lose you," and thought of it as manipulation instead of caring.

Years later, he would wonder why he'd never said the same.

After the Lorethans had left, walking each other back to their apartment, Obi-Wan glanced cautiously at Anakin and said, "I never knew you raced pods so often."

Anakin shrugged. "There was money in it for Watto, even if I didn't win. He could bet against me, and he got a cut of the action, too."

Obi-Wan decided that the intricacies of betting on Podracing were not something he needed to know. "I know you miss it, Anakin, but you must remember: a Jedi does not crave excitement."

"It's a good thing I'm not racing pods any more, then, isn't it?" Anakin said, his jaw tight.

_I'm making it worse,_ Obi-Wan thought. _What is wrong with me? Why do I always end up lecturing when I mean to comfort?_

He wanted to say something to make it better, but short of saying _I'm sorry; I'm an idiot_ -- not a very masterly thing to say -- he couldn't formulate a single phrase that seemed likely to help.

_Perhaps I'd better just quit before I say something even _worse.

"Well." He stood awkwardly for a moment. "I believe I'll turn in early tonight, Padawan. Perhaps you ought to do the same."

"I won't stay up too late, Master."

Plans are good. They help us to prepare, give us something to work for, show us a way to the light at the end of the tunnel.

But in the end, ever plan is only the illusion of control.

Standing in the Temple's transport pool, Ryn Orun tried to control her too-rapid breathing to bring the flutter of her heartbeat under control.

_Don't panic,_ she told herself. _This is the best plan we've had. It's the _only_ plan we've had. And Evinne and Obi-Wan will take care of Anakin if I fail._

_ Probably._

Anakin raised his head from the engine of the airspeeder she was piloting to the club Evinne had suggested, which he had insisted on checking out personally, "in case you need a quick getaway." Ryn hadn't pointed out that since she wanted to be kidnapped, a quick getaway was probably going to be low on her list of priorities.

"Hey," he told her now. "You don't have to do this."

_Yes, I do,_ Ryn thought. "I haven't heard any better ideas," she reminded him. "Just make sure you bring the cavalry on schedule."

The corners of Anakin's mouth tightened in determination. "I won't let you down."

"I know." Ryn hesitated. This was the hard part. "Anakin, listen. I ... no one in this mess is going to be safe. I know that. Just ... try not to take any _unnecessary_ risks, all right? I ... well, I really want to see you again. Alive."

One corner of his mouth loosened and turned up into a half-smile. "I like you better than way, too."

Some of the tension in Ryn's belly eased. "I'll make a special effort, just for you."

Anakin reached into the engine and tweaked something with his fingers, looked one more time, and then stood back and closed the casing with a satisfied air. "Peak condition," he said, wiping his hands on an oil rag. "If you get into trouble, it won't be the ride."

The black midriff was too thin for the wind swirling through the transport pool.

_Don't worry about that. Once you get to the club, you'll probably be too warm._

Ryn looked around at the others, these people who were depending on her. Anakin and Obi-Wan, of course; Evinne, looking wary; Siri and Ferus. Others she couldn't see: the whole Jedi Order, even if they didn't know it.

_No pressure, then._

"Are we ready?" she asked them collectively, and Obi-Wan nodded.

"As ready as we'll ever be."

Evinne stepped forward and gripped Ryn's shoulders, meeting her eyes for a second, then pressed her hand lightly to Ryn's chest in a Lorethan farewell. "The journey begins," she said, voicing a Svivreni farewell that travelers had brought to Loreth and left behind. "So go." She grinned and added a more typically Lorethan sentiment: "Die well."

Ryn smiled back at her and returned the gesture, hand-to-heart. "Die well," she echoed.

Ryn turned to step into the airspeeder, but Anakin's sharp burst of panic pulled her up short. "What? No! We said _no dying_; I promised to be caref--"

_Oh. That. Stang._ "Easy, Anakin," Ryn told him, reaching out to touch his arm. "It's not like that. It's something we say when one of us is going on a journey. Instead of goodbye."

"Cheerful," Obi-Wan said drily, and Ryn laughed.

"Well, then," she said, swinging up into the cockpit, "how about this one: may the Force be with you all."

There was a chorus of "and with you" and Ryn keyed the ignition and headed for the route she'd memorized that morning in the map room. They'd all gone over the plan as carefully as anyone could; she and Anakin had practiced hard; there was no reason why the plan shouldn't work. And there was no better alternative, anyway.

Ryn told herself all this, but the butterflies in her stomach didn't listen.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. But maybe he'd like my barfight. Anyway, this is purely a work of fanfiction and I am not making any profit from it.

A/N: Big bar fight, that's all I've got to say ...

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

Ryn parked her vehicle and walked a short distance down the pedway to the club Evinne had pointed out: a grimy, grungy, seedy place with half-lit neon letters in Aurebesh proclaiming it the BlasterHer.

_That's reassuring,_ Ryn thought sarcastically, trying to quell the fear in the pit of her stomach. _No danger here._

There was a set of old fashioned hinged doors -- for atmosphere, Ryn supposed, since in spite of the building's decrepit condition, there was no way in the Nine Hells that any structure in this part of Coruscant dated back to an era in which hinged doors would have come standard.

There was no knob or handle that she could see, so Ryn set her hands to either side of the join in the middle and pushed tentatively at the greasy surface.

_Oh, nice._

The doors swung inward and she followed, taking a quick step to the left as she ducked through, just in case anyone resented the intrusion.

Opinions on her entrance appeared to be split down the middle, and Ryn figured that was fair, since she had mixed feelings, too. About half the patrons noted her arrival with a sort of jaded detachment; the others glared. She supposed it said something about the kind of establishment she was in that no one simply ignored the appearance of a newcomer.

There weren't a lot of people sitting with their backs to the door, either.

_Evinne, you always send me to the nicest places._

Ryn tried not to sigh -- or cough -- as she began to ease her way toward the bar, hugging the left-hand wall because she didn't see anyone else going for a casual stroll down the center of the room.

_This had better be the place. A week or two of this could drive me crazy._

Of course, it wasn't really rational to expect that the Blades of Light would pick her up the first time she set foot outside the Temple. But she might as well hope for the best.

_Force. Getting kidnapped by a group of violent, wild-eyed fanatics is the _best_? I need to rethink my life._

Which would be great expect that she couldn't just let Anakin be killed. And the Jedi thing ... well, she was kind of committed there.

_Okay. So no rethinking, then. But I am definitely getting a hobby._

She heard a fist hit flesh and a strange barking noise behind and to the right, but nobody else seemed worried about it, so she kept moving.

_A nice, _nonviolent_ hobby._

She had to step out from the wall for a few paces to maneuver around an extremely broad humanoid who appeared to be propping it up. She tried not to flinch from the odor of sweat, blaster discharge, and something even nastier rolling off him.

_Maybe Anakin can teach me to build droids._

Except that she had never demonstrated any particular aptitude for that activity.

_Fine. I'll take up reading poetry, like Master Kenobi._

She found her way blocked again by someone less huge but equally repellent, and ducked right to squirm between a Rodian and a Twi'lek. She was almost surprised when neither of them tried to swipe her blaster. Not surprised at all when the Twi'lek tried to cop a feel.

She brushed his had aside with an easy move that snapped his smallest finger at its base joint and kept walking. He growled in pain, but she didn't sense any particular resentment from him: the name of the game was to take what you could. He'd made a play and lost, but he wasn't going to whine about it. He was what passed for decent in a place like this.

_Not that that's saying much._

Another fifteen paces took her to the bar. She braced her elbows on its filthy surface and leaned in slightly, giving the bartender a view of her modest cleavage and the rest of the room an eyeful of a well-deployed miniskirt.

The conversation with Anakin and Evinne the night before had suggested it to her. Before coming to the Jedi Temple, Ryn had spent a few sharp, burning weeks on Malastare, during the prodracing Championships. She'd been there to push a new line of superfast airspeeders whose performance was based on racing pods for the barely-holding-together Lorethan Engineering's last-ditch attempt at commercial success. She'd become a Podracing pinup, almost overnight. It had all been over in less than two standard months -- hardly a blip on the radar, really. But if she was recognizable for anything, it had to be the holos that had come out of her little flash in the pan of fame. And since the Togrutan had asked for _Ryn Orun_, by name, it seemed reasonable that someone had recognized her, and therefore had probably done their research.

So she was going undercover.

As herself.

That was messed up on levels Ryn didn't care to think about, so she smiled fractionally at the bartender -- no point in overdoing it, the BlasterHer was not the kind of place for silly grins -- and ordered a Corellian Sunset because that's what Ryn Orun would have done, nearly a year ago.

She slid her credits over and took a cautious sip of the drink, mindful that her recent history with drinks had been a bit spotty.

It was strong, but not overpowering, and she didn't have to drink the whole thing, anyway. She was just ordering for form.

She picked the drink up in one hand and turned to set her back against the bar, lounging with her elbows propped on its edge and one foot slightly in front of the other. It was a casual pose she'd learned from Evinne, and she was fairly certain that it looked not even remotely natural, but her mission wasn't to be cool, it was to get noticed. Preferably by a Blade of Light, but if not, then at least someone who would pass the word along.

_I should take out an ad in the classifieds for insurance. "Highly kidnappable Ryn Orun available at select trashy bars. Please direct inquiries to the Jedi Temple." _

_ Okay, maybe not._

She took another tiny sip of the Corellian Sunset -- no need to rush -- and felt something touch her left thigh.

She glanced down and noted with some irritation that the tentacled being on the rickety stool next to her had decided to take a course in human anatomy.

_Of course, I'm attracting all the wrong kinds of attention._

She laid her right hand on the handgrip of her blaster. "Move it or lose it," she advised him.

Some beings just don't know how to take good advice.

Tentacles looped for her left ankle with one flexible pod while he went for her blaster with another -- intending, probably, to throw her to the floor and rip her blaster away, all in one smooth move.

All in all, it wasn't such a bad strategy. Except that Ryn's reflexes operated at, roughly, the speed of light. Considerably faster, at the very least, than most beings' occipital centers could process.

So while Tentacles was making his swift and slimy progress toward her, Ryn let go of her drink so she could knock one pod away with her left hand and drew her blaster and fired with her right. She caught her drink in midair without spilling it -- a pretty, useless move she pulled just because it looked good -- about the same time that Tentacles was realizing that a blaster bolt had severed the pod he'd sent toward her ankle.

Ryn would have felt bad about that, but she figured he had about twenty more. And he hadn't exactly improved her evening, either.

She was feeling pretty pleased with herself, until she scanned the bar and got a rough count of how many friends Tentacles seemed to have.

_Well,_ she thought as they started to move in, _I wanted to get noticed._

They were approaching slowly, trying to look menacing.

_Good job._ Ryn slugged her drink once and set it down so she could push her small pouch of credits over the bar.

"What's that for?" the bartender asked.

"If this doesn't get messy, you'll owe me a drink."

She felt his eyes over her shoulder. "I have a back door."

"But my speeder's out front." She managed one last, cocky smile before she turned back to meet her attackers. "My name's Ryn Orun, by the way."

There were only eight of them.

_Notice this._

Tentacles was writhing and spluttering, trying to make a comeback, and since her left hand was now free, Ryn reached under the hem of her miniskirt and snatched out the small blaster she'd worn strapped to her thigh. She trained that weapon on Tentacles and held the other at her side.

"You know, really _good_ friends would be calling for a doctor or trying to stop the bleeding," Ryn said. Her voice was a little high, but that was all right. All she had to be was memorable.

"Well, maybe we're not really good friends," the Rodian in the center said.

"That's obvious" Ryn said. "So what do you want?"

Two down from the Rodian, a Twi'lek -- not the grabby one from earlier -- leered. "Maybe we don't appreciate your disrupting the peace."

Ryn had no trouble mustering a look of disbelief. _"Peace?"_

Down on the other side of the Rodian, a burly human started to snarl, belched, then tried again. "Maybe he's our boss."

Ryn clicked back the firing mechanism on her left-hand blaster. "Boss should've had better manners. You want him to lose another feeler?"

"Tough talk, kid," the Rodian said, with a glare at Burly. "Your big brother wants his toy guns back. Run home and mark it up to experience."

"I haven't finished my drink," Ryn said, although she was pretty sure she didn't want to.

_Stay calm, stay calm. Do not throw up on the floor. _

"Mark that up to experience, too," Burly said.

Ryn studied their loose semi-circle approach. They'd obviously had some practice working together; they'd fanned out so that she could't just hold down the lever on her blaster and sweep it: she'd never make them all before one of them got her. The blaster wouldn't release bolts fast enough.

But that was on the _kill_ setting. The weapon Tachi had dredged up for her had stun capabilities. And if the stun beam was as wide as the TK4713's, then ...

They were getting restless. Time to move. Ryn fired near-misses with her left hand, earning a critical tenth of a second's distraction as she thumbed the stun control and traced an arc with her right.

She fired between the thugs, letting the stun beam graze them, rather than aiming for a direct hit, because she could hit two at once that way. And an indirect hit would still render most beings numb and woozy for a lot longer than it would take her to reach the door.

She'd started her sweep from the right, so she had to dodge some blaster bolts from the guys to her left before she was done. Tentacles made another swipe with one long pod and she fired her smaller blaster without looking, heard the squelch and knew she'd scored a hit.

The thugs were moving a lot slower than they had been, but only two of them were actually down. Ryn crouched and leapt, tucking into a tight somersault over their heads, and sketched a zigzag for the door.

Blaster fire zinged past her ear and she dove for the floor, rolled under a table, took a knife drag along her right side from one of its occupants, and then made for the door again, only to have to leap over a table that somebody shoved into her way. She kept moving, but the bolts were getting closer, and finally she risked a straight-line sprint that covered the last four meters so she could herself at the center divide in the swinging doors and burst through onto the pedway.

There were shouts inside, getting closer, and Ryn sprinted for the airspeeder. More blaster fire. She leapt into the cockpit and zipped out into traffic with a bare half-second to spare.

She kept up the speed until she had returned to the areas she'd visited before and she was sure she wasn't being followed, then she slowed and eased into a lane headed in the general direction she wanted to go.

_That could have gone better._


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Ryn debriefs after her experience in the BlastHer. There are also allusions to a strategy session to get us from Point A to Point B without Yet Another Exposition Chapter.

Disclaimer: As it turns out, George Lucas gets mad props for owning Star Wars, while I receive zero profit from writing fanfic. Comfort me with feedback?

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

When Ryn pulled into the transport pool and cut the engine, the group she'd left behind was already waiting for her. She didn't feel ready to face a debriefing -- now that the adrenaline was fading away, she felt a little shaky. But it had to be done.

She climbed out of the airspeeder cockpit and ran her fingers through her hair, a little wild from the evening's adventures.

"The bad news is: I didn't get kidnapped," she told the waiting Jedi and Evinne.

"Is there good news?" Siri Tachi asked, arms folded in a gesture of impatience.

"I definitely got noticed. And I gave the bartender my name, so maybe he'll pass it along."

"And since you're here, not there, I'm guessing you wore out your welcome pretty quickly," Evinne surmised, eyeing the slime and red suction marks on Ryn's thigh.

"It wasn't a welcoming kind of place," Ryn said. "And it would have been nice to have gotten things going tonight, but a bunch of goons were shooting at me."

"Uh-huh." Evinne looked her over again. "Did they happen to mention why?"

"Probably because I shot their boss."

"And you shot their boss because ...?"

Ryn pointed to her leg. "His pods were getting awfully frisky."

"Are you okay?" Anakin asked, his voice low and intense. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'll be fine," Ryn said. "But my leg hurts."

Tachi nodded. "Many cephalopod species excrete a digestive or paralytic solution to make their prey less resistant. I doubt, in this case, that he was actually going to _eat_ you -- but you should probably get checkout in the infirmary, just to be safe."

"Oh, good," Ryn said. "Because I haven't spent enough time there lately."

"Sarcasm is very unbecoming," Obi-Wan reminded her.

_I am not your Padawan,_ Ryn thought. But there was nothing to be gained by making a scene. "Sorry, Master Kenobi," she said. "It's been a tense night."

"Of course." He glanced at Anakin, then back at her. "I'll walk you to the infirmary."

"I can do it!" Anakin said quickly, and Ryn started to shake her head, concerned about his walk back alone even though so far Ferus's investigation had turned up no sign of another spy.

"We'll both go," Obi-Wan countered, and Evinne leaned forward to tap Ryn on the arm.

"Glad you made it, Shorty. I'll wait for you up in the room."

Ryn nodded at her, feeling suddenly too drained to speak, and fell into step between Anakin and Obi-Wan.

"Are you sure you're okay?" the Padawan asked her, as they passed out of the windy landing bay and into the quieter corridors beyond.

"I'm fine. Just crashing from the adrenaline. I haven't been in a barfight for a while. And I was really hoping that we could take care of this tonight. I hate the waiting."

"Well, we can't reasonably expect the Blades of Light to have a man in the BlastHer every night," Obi-Wan cautioned. "They probably only come to conduct business."

"I know," Ryn said. "It was just a wish."

"Wishing is --" Obi-Wan cut himself off, looking at her. "Well, perhaps this isn't the best time for Jedi philosophy."

"My thoughts exactly," Ryn said; but she softened it with a smile.

The marks on her thigh had to be cleaned, which stung, and then slathered in bacta, which was slimy, and there were a few scrapes and bruises, besides the knife-trail along her ribs, that she had incurred in her rush to the door, and all of them needed tedious attention.

Ryn tilted her head so the healer could treat a bruise near her temple and saw Anakin watching her and trying to look calm.

Ryn knew telling him she was fine (again) wouldn't do any good until she looked the part, so she tried to deflect his concern by saying, "I'm glad you insisted on checking out the engine before I left. I could tell it gave me an edge getting away." And it had, although Temple issue would probably have been enough.

Anakin smiled and ducked his head, unexpectedly shy.

She could feel him glowing with the praise -- such a simple thing -- happier than he'd been in weeks, and left him to savor the moment while she transferred her attention to Obi-Wan.

"We need to talk to Master Tachi, see if she can find a faster blaster. The firing mechanism on this one is slow. Maybe a modded BlasTech?"

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "I've heard a blaster called an inelegant weapon, but I don't think I've ever heard one called too slow before."

"Against many opponents at once, it can make the difference."

"And how many opponents did you face tonight?"

"Eight, plus the guy with the tentacles."

"A Quarren?"

"No, he had tentacles all over. Not a species I'd seen before."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. What about the blaster?"

Anakin snorted.

"You behave," Ryn told him, and looked back at Obi-Wan over the healer's shoulder. "I mean it, Master Kenobi. I don't want to get killed by the wrong people while I'm watching for the right ones to show up."

"Yes, all right, don't get upset. I'll mention it to Siri."

"Good. Where can I find intel on that bar?"

"The Archives --"

"I'm willing to look, but I doubt we'll find anything. I need to talk to an agent who's worked in the area -- or, failing that, maybe Coruscant's Security forces have a file. I want to know everything there is to know about the owner, the regrettable staff, and anyone who is a regular. It might help us narrow the field."

"Master Vos is in the Temple just now. He might know something."

"Excellent. Can I meet him tonight, or would morning be a more appropriate time?"

Kenobi blinked. "I'll see if he can meet us for breakfast."

"I look forward to it. And thanks." Ryn leaned around the healer slightly so she could catch Anakin's eye. "Padawan Skywalker? I have an assignment for you that you're going to _love_."

Anakin looked wary. "Yeah?"

Ryn grinned at him, then broke eye contact as the healer grabbed her chin and twisted her face to the light again. "Malastaran Podracing. I want to know the current whereabouts of all last year's competitors. I can provide a list of names if you need it. I also want to know what the closest equivalent sport is on Coruscant, and anything you can find out about how that sport works. If cage-fighting is involved, that's a plus."

"Cage-fighting?" Obi-Wan asked, giving his eyebrows a workout again.

"It happens a lot on Malastare, after the races. Think of it as the party after the party."

"And I suppose you were somehow involved?"

"I was undefeated," Ryn answered. "Twenty-one matches. Evinne finally beat me the night after the Championship race. Threw me clear through one wall of the cage after half an hour of unrefereed mayhem. Knocked me out cold."

"Ouch," said Anakin.

"If I had stayed in that cage, I would have died there," Ryn explained, remembering painfully. "Misplaced sense of honor, I suppose. Damn martyr complex. I had no business fighting a more experienced warrior outside my weight class. But it would have been an insult to my whole clan if she'd turned down my challenge." Looking back, Ryn recalled the crushing guilt of those first months after the fighting had stopped: the pain of having lived when so many had died. "Evinne saved my life the only way she could."

She liked to think she'd grown, since, or at least found her way back to a life of service instead of mere selfish angst. Sometimes peace still eluded her, but life was, after all, a journey. And meeting Anakin, nearly six standard months ago, had changed her in ways she was only beginning to understand. Awakened her to _feeling_ again, rather than merely surviving, to light and laughter and fresh, bleeding pain. To living with an open heart. Reminded her how to love in the face of loss.

Anakin reached forward and touched her knee. "Are you all right?" he asked her, concern puckering his brow. "You look thoughtful."

"I'm fine," Ryn told him for the third time that night, smiling faintly. "Just thinking about how much things have changed in a year. But there is one other thing I'd like you to do, as soon as you can. It might prove a little tricky."

"What's that?"

"Evinne's airspeeder was impounded when she got here. That's no surprise: the damn thing's illegal. But I was thinking that if you took a look at the engine, you might be able to find a way to bring it within Coruscanti specs?"

Obi-Wan looked cautious. "Why is it illegal?"

"It's a Lorethan Engineering Airway Racer with ERC."

They both stared at her.

Ryn sighed. "It's basically a sublight starfighter engine with enhanced repulsor control, optimized for atmospheric environments and fitted inside an airspeeder casing."

Obi-Wan still looked blank, but Anakin said, "So it's fast."

"_Illegally_ fast," Ryn agreed. "I'm not sure it will even operate at speeds low enough to pass Coruscant's airlane safety laws. But if you can find a way to mod it, then I'm thinking it could be my transport tomorrow night."

"It sounds dangerous," Obi-Wan commented.

"It is. But I was one of the test pilots for that design. I can fly it."

"I didn't know you were a pilot," Anakin said. He sounded vaguely betrayed, as if this were something important that she should have shared with him.

"Well," Ryn aid, shooting him an apologetic grin as the healer moved to her last scrape. "I'm no Skywalker. But I can hold my own."

"Have you ever flown competitively?"

_Oh, Anakin. You and your racing urges._

"Back home, sometimes," she admitted reluctantly. "You compete in everything during training." She glanced at him sidelong as the healer applied one last smear of bacta. "_No._ I know that look, and you can forget it. I am not racing you on anything more dangerous than my own two feet."

"Come on," Anakin urged her, giving her a very unJedi-like wicked grin. "Live a little."

"I want to live a _lot_," Ryn retorted, hopping down from the exam table. "Which is why I won't be racing you."

Anakin just laughed.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: The climax approaches ...

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars, and I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

Ryn stared dully at the slow approach of the torture 'bot, seeing her immediate future.

_Well,_ she told herself, _you wanted to be here._

The revised plan had worked on the fourth try. An inauspicious number in Lorethan superstition, but Ryn was trying not to think that way. She was trying to focus on the fact that so far everything had gone according to plan -- well, except for the torture 'bot; she could have done without that. In fact, if Anakin showed up with a couple dozen Jedi any time in the next few minutes, she would have no worries.

She looked at the torture 'bot and swallowed. _I don't think that's going to happen._

She'd tried to send Anakin some more specific data than just her location: the layout of the building, her guess of the numbers that confronted them. But she'd been pretty drugged -- the Blades of Light had elected to slip a mickey in her drink for surety, and as soon as she'd been sure the too-intense man sitting next to her was one of them, she'd taken small sips until he evidently decided it was enough, and signaled his companions to move in on her. She'd drunk the bare minimum necessary for a convincing performance, but even that had made her woozy and disoriented for hours. Her head was still struggling to clear the effects.

And now, it seemed, she was going to be drugged again.

A man grabbed her by each arm, and one of them jerked back her sleeve, ripping the cloth. They'd have needed more to hold her of she had wanted to get away, but Ryn didn't struggle, just watched the torture 'bot extend the syringe that would undo her ability to block pain and inhibit the production of endorphins so she'd have to _feel_ everything.

The needle plnuged into the vein inside the crook of her elbow. Ryn felt the pressure as the plunger depressed, saw the crackle of electricity fire between sharp points of metal as it extended an arm, and thought: _This is going to hurt._

Back at the Jedi Temple, Anakin was preparing with the other Jedi as best he could. He'd gotten a fuzzy impression from Ryn that there were quite a few more of the Blades of Light than they had anticipated, and they were attempting to compensate by adding more Jedi.

Besides, Anakin and Obi-Wan, there were Siri and Ferus and Mace Windu and Quinlan Vos (he'd signed on with a bit of swagger, saying he wanted in because he liked Ryn's style). Ry-Gaul and his apprentice, Tru Veld, had agreed to join them as well, and Anakin was grateful for his friend's steady presence. Despite Obi-Wan's admonitions about staying calm and finding his center, Anakin was worried about Ryn. Something was wrong with her. She felt all hazy and vague, not at all like the piercing clarity he was used to in her mind. There were two other Jedi, just assigned to the mission, and, of course, Evinne. He wasn't sure what to make of her, exactly. But she definitely wanted to get Ryn back, and her devotion to the cause -- protecting the Chosen One, although presumably she didn't know it was Anakin -- was beyond question.

Feeling his eyes on her now, she turned and gave him a quizzical half-smile. "Don't worry about Ryn," she told him, speaking his thoughts. "She's as tough as they come."

Anakin shifted his weight and said, "How long have you known her?"

"Oh, I calculate ... not quite five standard years. Not that our paths crossed all that much." Evinne sighted down her blaster rifle shook her head, and went back to fiddling with the controls. "We were in different branches of the Service. And after that last invasion I let my commission lapse."

"Lapse?"

"Inactive."

"Ryn's is ..."

"Still active. She can't be defunct while performing a service for the LFS." Seeing Anakin's puzzled expression, she added, "Lorethan Free State."

"So," Anakin suggested, not quite sure how to ask what he wanted to know, "if she wanted to go home ..."

Evinne raised one clean blond eyebrow. "What makes you think she'd want to do that?"

"Well. Um. I know she misses it."

Evinne looked thoughtful, tapping absently on the stock of her blaster rifle. "I think she'd miss _you_, if she ever left the Temple."

Ryn's feelings for him were the last thing he wanted to discuss. "It's just ... her brother, you know? I'm sure she'd like to see him."

"No doubt about that," Evinne agreed. "But she'll have to wait a while. Kit is up to his eyeballs in border skirmishes. He's in no positions to be visiting anybody. And you couldn't pry Ryn away from the Temple with a crowbar and a flamethrower." _A what and and a what?_ "I thought she was was crazy for taking this assignment," Evinne went on. "_Nobody_ wanted it: impossible, unpleasant, far from home. I thought she had some sort of martyr complex, that she was trying to compensate for survivor's guilt after some of those battles. But ..." She cast a measuring gaze around the transport pool, as though it held the evidence "... she's done all right. And she seems happy here. She smiles more, anyway."

Thinking of Ryn's reluctant smile, Anakin wondered jut how reticent she must have been back home.

Evinne, picking up on his thoughts, offered him an odd little half-smile of her own. "Ryn is too young to remember the last interim peace that lasted more than three weeks. Everybody she knew when she was five was dead by the time she was six, except for Kit. And she fought in some of the bloodiest engagements, even though she was underage. That's a lot of death, when you're young."

Anakin looked at her, the tired memory in her eyes, and thought, _You're not much older than she is._

"Anakin!" He turned to the sound of his master's voice. "We'll be ready to leave in a few minutes. You and I will take the lead vehicle, as you will have to give directions. Be sure your mind is clear and that you can sense Ryn's Force signature. Evinne, have you finished the weapon's check?"

Evinne's languid spine snapped straight. "All weapons are go, Master Kenobi."

Following his master into the cockpit of an airspeeder, Anakin reached for his sense of Ryn, still disconcerted by the lack of clarity.

And then a fireball of pain burned through his veins, erasing all the blurriness and replacing it with more perception than he could bear. Ryn's pain screamed in the Force, on and on and on, undoing Anakin's shields, unraveling thought and time, until he had to call on the Force to stay conscious. And then, as the pain slowly returned to a level that was only mostly unbearable, the world swung back into focus through Ryn's eyes.

She was weak, and shaky from the pain, but as she lay on the floor, gasping, she blinked tears from her eyes and Anakin saw a cold metal room, ill-lit. Hovering ominously to one side was a 'bot of some kind, with a couple of syringe arms and various appendages, most of which ended in an assortment of prongs that crackled with electricity.

He felt cold metal under Ryn's hands as she braced herself and struggled to her knees. She was watching the syringe warily, and Anakin felt her sickening knowledge that its contents were responsible for her body's inability to black out and escape the pain.

"You know," a blurry shape in the corner murmured, "all you have to do is tell us the Chosen One's name. It can stop."

Ryn's mouth tasted of metal. She spat blood and staggered to her feet.

"People always talk under torture," a second voice added. "It's only a matter of time."

Ryn eyed the blue-wreathed arms of the torture 'bot, beautiful and deadly, and Anakin felt her searing, taunting grin. "Is that all you've got?"

As Ryn's cheek hit the floor under waves of lightning, Anakin crashed back into his own body in the cockpit of the airspeeder.

"Hurry, Master. They are torturing her."


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

Ryn lay very still and felt her heartbeat reverberate against the metal floor. She couldn't tell if it was cold any more; her raw nerves sizzled with hot pain, eradicating her ability to distinguish any other sensation.

_Don't move,_ she thought dully. _Don't _breathe_, and maybe they'll think you're already dead._ Pretend dead, after all, was as good as the real thing.

She could feel the aftershocks fading slowly from her muscles, erratic twitches still jumping against her bones. She didn't bother to reach for the control necessary to stop them; there was no point. Her heart had broken its rhythm this time; surely one more round with the electrical impulses would do the trick. She could feel Death beckoning, cold relief, a light behind her eyelids, a weight pulling at her limbs. But she had to hang on just a little longer, just until Anakin could follow the thread of her presence to this place so the Jedi could destroy the Blades of Light. After that, she could let go. _Just a little longer. Hurry, Anakin, it hurts._

She clenched her teeth and held her breath so she couldn't weep.

Behind her, she heard a crackle, the torture 'bot ramping up again. _Damn._

"No," a voice said. "You'll just kill her. What's the point in that? Leave her alone to think about her fate for a while." A hand tangled in her hair, jerking Ryn's face off the floor. "Consider well, Child." He dropped her, and Ryn's jaw smashed into the floor again. She didn't bother to spit out the blood.

The door opened and closed behind her, leaving her alone.

She could feel Anakin, getting closer.

_Soon,_ she told herself. _It will all be over soon._

~:~:~

Anakin stiffened as the burning pain took over Ryn's world again. At least he'd been ready for it this time; after the first few attacks, he'd learned to shield himself against it.

Obi-Wan glanced up from the speeder controls. "The pain is a good thing, Padawan. It means she's still alive."

Anakin nodded, trying to breathe, trying to ignore the cold sheen of sweat beading his forehead. "Maybe not for long, Master."

"Are we getting close?"

"Closer, anyway. But not fast enough."

"You're certain the hideout is in the Works?"

"It's the only place I can think of that looks like what Ryn saw. And it's about the right traveling time."

They wove through buildings in various states of disrepair. Obi-Wan slowed the airspeeder to a slow drone to let Anakin get his bearings. Fear and the knowledge of Ryn's suffering choked him like a hand around the throat.

_I won't fail you, Ryn. I won't._

Somewhere in the Works, faint but real, he felt an answer:

_I know. Hurry._

_ Ryn? Where _are_ you? Help me find you._

_ I'm inside. Warehouse, maybe. Abandoned. I can feel you getting closer ... _Her presence felt weak; it lacked its usual bright edge.

_Ryn? Just hold on. I'm coming. Help is on the way._

Her answer was ragged with pain. _There are more than we thought. Be careful._

Anakin sank deeper into the Force, seeking her clear bright light. _I have to _find_ you, first._

Hesitation. _Wait ..._ Suddenly pain roared up, dimming Anakin's vision. _Can you feel me now?_

"Master, that way!" He pointed. "Quickly!"

Obi-Wan opened up the throttle and the airspeeder leapt forward. "How far?"

"Right there! That durasteel building with the missing windows! Ryn is several floors down."

Obi-Wan eyed the building in question with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Do you see that place? It looks like a metal hive! Ryn could be anywhere!" He activated his commlink. "Siri, Anakin says Ryn is somewhere in that durasteel building, ahead and to the left. Looks like maybe it used to contain offices of some kind."

"It did." Siri Tachi's voice sounded grim. "Local management and accounting for Li-Bov Systems. They crammed their employees in metal cubicles. If the dividers are still there, that's going to be a bad place to fight in."

She didn't need to explain. With unlimited places for the enemy to hide and restricted maneuverability, even Jedi would be at a severe disadvantage.

"We should come back with more firepower," Ferus suggested from Siri's commlink. "Bring fighters and destroy the building with the Blades of Light inside."

"Are you crazy?" Anakin demanded, gazing at Obi-Wan's commlink in disbelief. "_Ryn_ is inside! We can't just leave here there."

"Anakin is right," Obi-Wan said somberly. "Ryn trusted us. We have a responsibility to try and get her out alive."

"And if we lose more lives in the attempt?" Ferus asked. "If we lose _Anakin_? Would Ryn want that?"

_"I won't leave her,_" Anakin said stubbornly. "Master, we told her we'd come. She's waiting for us. We can't just ... give up without trying. She's our _friend_."

Obi-Wan gave him a hard look. "I'm afraid we'll have to risk it," he said into his commlink. "We do have an obligation."

Evinne's voice cut in. "What about a less drastic choice? A few grenades. A couple of Lorethan supercommandos."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, even though Evinne clearly couldn't see him through the commlink. "And where would we get those?"

"Part of my team is in this system," Evinne said. "They could be here and ready to roll in less than three standard hours. I wanted to bring them in earlier, but Ryn was adamant about keeping the Chosen One thing under warps. All we'd have to tell them, now, though, is that Ryn is in trouble. They are experts at hostage extraction. They can get in and out with minimal casualties. And they would be glad to help a planetary hero."

Obi-Wan frowned. "This is a Jedi --"

"Oh, please," Evinne snapped. "I'm all for having your professional pride, but that's ridiculous. It stopped being a strictly Jedi affair when Ryn threw herself into combat to protect the Chosen One. I don't hear you complaining about that. Loreth has been in this from the beginning. All we're asking for is the chance to do what we do best, and save one of our own while we do it."

"The Jedi are well-trained --"

"Obi-Wan." That was Master Tachi's voice. "She has a point. The Jedi are peace-keepers, not commandos. We'd be foolish not to use every resource at our disposal."

Obi-Wan hesitated just a second longer. "Very well." He pulled up, into a tight turn.

_I'm sorry, Ryn. hang on. It's going to be just a little longer._

Ryn's reply was more determined than hopeful. _I'll do my best._

~:~:~

Ryn felt Anakin start moving away about the same time the boot crashed into her ribs. "Ungh."

Apparently the Blades of Light had decided that the electric currents from the torture 'bot were killing her too quickly, so they had chosen to try a more old-fashioned method for a while.

On the one hand, they were probably right about the torture 'bot, so that was good, but on the other hand, Ryn had some serious reservations about the new plan, too.

Someone jerked her roughly to her feet and delivered a smashing blow, but without much precision, to her chin. Squinting, Ryn saw the fist draw back again, and then heard a voice snap, "No! Don't hit her in the face, you fool. Break her jaw and she won't be able to tell us a damn thing."

The goon released her, and Ryn staggered back a step but kept her feet. Someone flicked a switch, and the lighting in the room evened out. A hard-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped forward. "I'm sorry. I am afraid my men are not very experienced with this sort of thing."

"Yeah." Ryn worked her aching mouth and spat blood. "Good help is hard to find."

The man smiled. "You have a sense of humor. Good. I like you." He came closer and cupped Ryn's chin in his hand. "We don't want to hurt you, you know. But we must have this information. The safety of the galaxy is at stake. Individual needs must be set aside."

Ryn met his cold eyes, read the righteous furor there. "Like morals, you mean?"

The leader's jaw tightened and so did his grip, but he did not lose control. "The fate of the galaxy is worth a few sacrifices, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't think we share a definition of sacrifice."

He laughed, and Ryn felt a chill run down her spine. "Oh, yes. I've heard of you. Ryn Orun. War hero. A decorated veteran before the age of twelve. So noble. Burning with righteous fury. Tell me, did that save the men who fought at Avthon?"

_Avthon._ Somewhere inside, Ryn still smelled the smoke, still felt herself sticky with blood. She swallowed bile and regained her focus in time to catch the fleeting gleam of satisfaction in her captor's eyes.

_Monster._

"Yes," he murmured. "To save so many, is not one life a fair price to pay? Would you see that battle repeated across a thousand worlds? Would you unleash those horrors on other children?"

"Always in motion, the future is," Ryn whispered -- quoting Yoda, of course, but he had to be right sometimes.

"I see you need more convincing." He dropped his hand and stepped back. "Carry on, gentlemen. But mind the jaw."


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: At last, the climax of Gravity! There is one more chapter, to tie up the loose ends and set up the sequel (yes, there's a sequel!) -- but if you've been waiting for the final showdown, it's here!

Disclaimer: I feel I must disabuse you of the notion that I own Star Wars. That honor belongs instead to George Lucas, and I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction. However, I would VERY much like some feedback! :)

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

The Lorethan ex-military commandos arrived even faster than Evinne had predicted. Twelve of them appeared in a sleek black gunship less than an hour and a half after Evinne had sent her coded signal.

Anakin, watching them disembark, couldn't help thinking that if he had not persuaded Ryn to leave off calling her own people, they could have been here days ago, and even this small delay might have been avoided.

_Ryn might have been safe by now._

The Lorethans themselves were a striking group. Tall and lean, all of them, nine women and three men, most of them much like Evinne, various shades of blonde hair and that pale skin that seemed to be a common Lorethan trait. But one of the men and two of the women had _blue_ hair, some darker than others. The darkest belonged to a slim-built woman with a scar along the back of one hand, who in profile looked so much like an older version of Ryn that Anakin's heart stopped.

She sensed his reaction and turned to smile at him. "You're thinking I look like your friend, yeah?"

Her Basic was spoken with a strong lilt, but Anakin sorted through it. "Yeah."

"I've heard as much before. We both look like my great-great-grandmother. Three greats for Areth'ryn."

_Areth'ryn._ He'd have to ask Ryn sometime about the significance of the prefix.

Evinne made introductions, short and sweet. "We'll be following the Jedi's lead in this," she summed up. "Master Kenobi will brief you."

Obi-wan quickly ran down the little they knew about the Blades of Light's equipment, numbers, and training, and the location of the building.

"It will be hostage extraction in the hostiles' home territory, with lots of cover for the enemy and plenty of fallback positions on their side," Evinne said, taking charge again. "We can assume they have a good store of weapons and supplies, too. I'll tell you up front, this mission is purely speculative. You are free to keep anything you find, but it's not going to make you rich. Anyone wants to leave, this is your chance."

The silence stretched out. No one moved.

"All right, then." Evinne clapped her hands together, sharply. "Let's make Loreth proud. Gentlemen, Ladies: Die well."

The Lorethans piled back into their gunship. Ferus went with them; Evinne had designated him to act as the Jedi liason to their commando group, although she hadn't said why. She herself was still flying with Siri. If she harbored any resentment over the way Tachi had treated her in the past, it didn't show. Under fire, Evinne lost a lot of her cheekiness. She was as impassive as a Jedi now, and dangerous.

Anakin could feel her taut readiness in the airspeeder just behind, reminding him painfully of Ryn in the sheer _cleanness_ of her absolute focus.

The Lorethans landed their gunship on the roof, and the others followed suit, disembarking quickly.

One of the Lorethans cast a sharp look at Anakin. "How many floors down?"

"I don't know," Anakin said. Ryn's presence in the Force was raw and red and diffuse with pain. "She's still a long way, that's all I can tell."

The man who'd asked the question looked dissatisfied, but Evinne nodded briskly. "Fair enough. All right. Roof entry or cables?"

There was some scowling from the Lorethans while the Jedi looked on in silence. "It will have to be roof entry," one of the Lorethans said at last. "Without knowing Orun's location, we can't hope to choose the right floor and extract her before the fighting begins. Choose the wrong floor, and we'll still have to fight our way either up or down to get her, and risk more casualties in the process."

"Don't forget," Evinne reminded her, "eliminating the Blades of Light is also a priority. We need one hundred percent kill or capture."

"Preferably capture," Obi-Wan put in.

Evinne shot him a jaded look. "Capture is more difficult and dangerous. Let's not take any unnecessary risks." She scanned the rooftop. "Insertion point?"

The Lorethans -- the Raven Guard, they called themselves, and they looked like it now, black-clad and moving in sync -- fanned out while the Jedi watched, and made a quick survey of the area.

"Can't go through the ductwork," the blue-haired man said. "It's too narrow, and there's no telling where we might come out. We'll have to take the service entrance down the stairwell."

Evinne looked grim. "If we're spotted before we find Ryn's level, it's going to get messy."

"I don't see a choice," Siri Tachi said. "Do you?"

"Kriff it. No. I don't." Evinne glared at the opening. "All right. I'll take point. Makesh, Aravel, Nikto: rearguard. Aram: stay with the gunship and keep the weapons hot."

"We want to get through this with a minimum of bloodshed," Obi-Wan reminded her again.

Evinne transferred her glare to him. "We've got to eliminate them somehow, Master Kenobi. You want to be here again in six months' time?" She glanced over her shoulder at the Raven Guard. "But let's not make any martyrs, okay?"

The blue-haired man -- Makesh, apparently -- shattered the locking mechanism on the door with a blow from the butt of his blaster rifle and they fled into the stairwell, lightsabers out but inactive. The light from the open door faded as they descended. All was quiet, but a chill permeated the Force, blanketing Anakin's perceptions.

"Do you feel that?" he whispered to Obi-Wan as they trailed past another floor.

"Yes, Padawan. Focus."

Something twisted in Anakin's gut, a blinding impact of pain that wrenched his senses.

_Ryn._

"Master. Ryn, she's on this floor, she --"

"So are a lot of other beings," Obi-Wan muttered. "Something very dark is happening here." He glanced back at his Padawan's strained face and his own softened minutely. "Go find her. We'll take care of this."

Anakin didn't need to be told twice. He tore off down the corridor as the others settled into a search pattern, looking for signs of life. He blurred his presence in the Force and sprinted for that tug he could feel, the pull of Ryn's Force signature.

He passed occasional stragglers in the corridor, who jumped and looked around to see what the disturbance was and then returned, blinking, to their activities.

He sprinted around a corner and jerked to a stop, pulled up short by a sudden tingling of awareness.

He sliced open the controls of the nearest door and stepped inside.

Ryn lay on her face in the floor, her chest rattling with labored breaths.

Anakin crossed the floor in two long strides and dropped to one knee, touching her shoulder, stretching out with the Force to check for injuries.

No spinal problems, which was good. It would make getting her out that much easier. But there was massive internal bleeding, which was definitely bad.

Carefully he turned her over, brushing her hair back from her paler-than-usual face. "Ryn? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes fluttered open, focusing slowly and laboriously on his face. "Anakin?" she whispered, her voice faint.

"I'm here, Ryn. I told you I'd come for you."

"I never ... doubted ... you."

Anakin's vision blurred with tears, but he answered her wan smile anyway. "Can you walk?"

"Can you walk?"

Ryn squinted up at Anakin and tried to nod. She didn't quite make it, which probably boded ill for her chances of actually walking anywhere.

Anakin bit his lip. "Hold on." He cupped her face in his hands and Ryn felt his presence brighten as he drew strength from the Force, and then felt the Force itself as he directed it through her veins, purging the drugs and leaving her clear-headed, if weak.

Ryn gave him her hand and let him haul her to her feet.

She gave him a brisk nod to show that she was ready for action, but Anakin frowned at her critically and thumbed out a commlink. "Master."

Obi-Wan's voice came back strained, punctuated by what sounded like blasterfire. "Yes, Padawan?"

"I've found Ryn, but she's in bad shape. She needs medical attention right away."

"Don't wait for us, then. Head back to the Temple. And be careful!"

Ryn opened her mouth to protest, then remembered that as long as Anakin was escorting her back to the Temple, he wasn't rushing headlong into a battle with people whose main purpose was to see him dead, and pressed her lips together again without saying anything. Given the situation, Anakin was the last person who needed to be anywhere near the Blades of Light, but he would probably join the fight if he thought she was up to it. And Ryn was just selfish enough to want him safe, with her, instead of in the middle of this particular fight.

He must have seen part of that thought on her face, because he touched her arm in concern. "I've purged your system, with the Force, so you should feel better for a while, but you're still badly injured. You need a real Healer."

Ryn nodded. She believed that, at least. Anakin could be overprotective ... but this time, she knew he was right.

Anakin led her down the long corridor and past several turns. Somewhere nearby, the sounds of fighting reverberated through the building. More than that, Ryn could feel violence and death, disturbing and yet all too familiar. She knew Anakin could sense it too, that the Force granted him an empathy different from her own and yet keen. She wondered if it were easier to block such perceptions when they came from the Force. For Ryn, she might as well try to stand in a monsoon and not feel the rain.

Perhaps that explained why she did not sense danger amongst the maelstrom of feeling until the approaching humanoids were almost on them. "Anakin, look out!"

Anakin's lightsaber flashed, deflecting bolts harmlessly with one hand. With the other, he reached beneath his tabard and withdrew Ryn's own weapon. Wordlessly he passed it to her, and Ryn ignited it with a sharp snap-hiss and moved up to stand beside him. They were deflecting the bolts into the walls, rather than at their attackers, but the blaster-holders -- three human males and one Rodian whose gender Ryn couldn't identify -- just kept firing.

"I don't think the non-violent approach is working," she yelled over the zing of blasterfire.

"They have to run out of power cells sometime," Anakin answered; but he didn't sound all that hopeful, and Ryn couldn't blame him.

"Cover me," she said. "I'm going to try something."

"What?" Anakin said. "No! Don't --" but Ryn was already stepping behind his whirling blade, stilling her own lightsaber so she could focus on something else.

She gathered up the memory of the last several hours, the torture 'bot's activities and the smashing blows of the men, still lying raw and close to the surface, her insides still burned and bleeding, her nerves still jangling from the last attack, and projected those feelings outward at her targets.

She'd learned the technique when she was very small, quite by accident. She hadn't had the words, as a toddler, to explain how she felt, and so she'd tried to _show_ people. But if she pushed too hard, she'd override their own senses, causing disorientation, and whomever she was talking to would momentarily share her feelings.

_I tried to show Daddy where it hurt,_ she'd told her mother when she was three, _but I showed him too hard and he got confused._

She'd since learned to hold back, to shield and to reach out more delicately: but all that power was still there, untrained and unrefined, waiting to be tapped.

So she did something now that she had never done before. She violated another mind --actually three minds -- on purpose. She shoved that fresh bleeding memory of pain at them, and they howled and threw down their blasters. And then, because they hadn't been given the torture drugs, their brains promptly sent them into an unconscious state, recoiling from the pain.

Anakin looked horrified. "What did you _do_?"

"Showed them what it was like with the torture 'bot," Ryn panted, one hand to her side as she struggled against the pain that was still there -- less sharp and fiery now, but terribly persistent, dragging at her every move. "Hurry, before they wake up."

Ryn made it all the way to the stairwell -- through three more skirmishes -- before she slumped against the wall, breathing shallowly. "Anakin. I don't ... I can't ... You go on. Please."

Anakin looked up at the flights of stairs leading to the roof, then back at Ryn. She was holding one arm wrapped around her middle, and her skin, under a coating of blood and grime, had taken on a sickly gray cast that reminded him uncomfortably of the way she'd looked in that bed in the infirmary a fortnight ago. His stomach roiled at the thought, but Anakin stepped on his fear, refusing to let it control him.

"You _can,_" he told her, pouring his will into the look he gave her. "You can and you will."

Ryn started to shake her head, but then her eyes rolled back and her knees buckled and she collapsed as though suddenly boneless.

"Okay," Anakin said, catching her as she slumped to the floor, "maybe you can't."

A loud _BOOM_ echoed through the stairwell. The entire building bucked under Anakin's feet like a wild bantha, and kept shaking. It was coming apart from the bottom up, he could feel it. He glanced back at the doorway he'd just come through. His master and the others needed his help. But if he left Ryn now, she would die. A taunting voice whispered that Ryn's chances for survival didn't look that good, no matter what he did.

_But I can't just leave her._

The stairway began to groan. If he was going to get Ryn out, he'd have to hurry.

Anakin knelt and lifted Ryn's battered body, slinging her over his shoulders as gently as he could.

_One floor. Two. Three. Four._ He was three floors from the top when one side of the metal staircase tore loos from its fastenings on the wall with a horrible screech. Hastily Anakin leapt to the nearest landing and threw himself at the door.

Not a moment too soon. Even as Anakin's feet cleared the entrance, the other side of the staircase pulled free, tottered a moment, and then began to crumple on itself.

And Anakin had a bad feeling the same thing was about to happen to the rest of the building.

He bent and put Ryn down to get his breath back and figure out his next move. _There has to be another way out, that can't --_

"It's downstairs," Ryn whispered. "But the building is coming apart, We'd never make it."

Anakin touched her cheek. It was icy cold. "It's good to see you awake," he murmured.

Ryn caught his hand with hers and held it. "There might be a way out for you," she told him, her eyes pleading. "The upper floors have large windows facing the abandoned factories. it's a long jump, over a hundred fifty meters, but you might make it."

"You're coming with me," Anakin told her, clutching at her hand.

"I'll just ..." she gasped for breath "...slow you down."

"We leave together, or not at all," Anakin answered firmly.

He reached out to pick her up again, but Ryn held him off with a hand on his chest. "I can walk."

But they didn't walk, they ran. Anakin kept one hand on Ryn's arm, half-hauling her along, and activated his commlink with the other. "Master! What's going on?"

Obi-Wan's voice came back, tight with worry. "The building's structural supports have been compromised by grenade fire," he said. "We are heading for the south exit. Where are you?"

"Three floors from the roof, but the stairs are gone. We're going to try exiting through a window."

"Which side of the building?"

Anakin glanced at Ryn. "West," she whispered, her voice strained, and Anakin relayed the information to Obi-Wan.

"We'll swing around and pick you up," his master said.

The window appeared before them. Anakin glanced back at Ryn, whose light in the Force was dimming alarmingly. "Hurry, Master. Ryn can't wait much longer."

He thrust the commlink back into his utility belt and slashed through the window with his lightsaber. The winds of upper Coruscant rushed in, tugging at Anakin's tunic and whipping Ryn's hair into black streamers. The building gave a last, horrible shuddering quake.

Anakin slid an arm around Ryn's waist, pulling her close. "Trust me?"

Ryn smiled back, lips parting over bloodstained teeth, and linked her arms around his neck. "Always."

Anakin reached out to the Force, gathering it around them. And as the building at last gave up the fight and buckled into rubble behind them, he clutched Ryn tightly and jumped out into space.

Air rushed by. Ryn buried her face in Anakin's neck. He heard her voice in his head: _I hate heights._ They plummeted. _Twenty-five meters. Fifty. Seventy-five. One hundred._ Anakin twisted in the air, trying to get beneath Ryn. If the impact killed him, maybe at least he could gain a split second to Force-push her to safety.

Ryn uncooperatively hooked a foot behind his calf, linking them together. He felt her touch his mind again: _Don't even think about it._

_One hundred twenty-five meters. One hundred fifty. One-sixty. One-seventy._

And then there was no more time to think about anything, because all that durasteel plating was _right there_, and Anakin threw the Force between them and the surface with all his might. He heard himself scream with the effort, felt their descent slow, then stop, then felt the tug of gravity again as they dropped the last fifteen meters. But fifteen meters he cold manage, and despite Ryn's protests Anakin swept an arm behind her knees, swinging her into his arms as he landed on his feet, holding her gently off the ground.

"Show off," Ryn murmured, teasing him, but blood bubbled out of her mouth with the words, and Anakin felt his heart clench with fear. _What if I'm too late?_

"Just hang on, Ryn," he told her urgently. "Obi-Wan will be here any minute."

"Copy that," Ryn whispered. But her eyelids fluttered shut, and there was that awful weakness about her Force-signature ...

A whirring hum overhead drew Anakin's eyes, and he saw the Lorethan gunship coming in fast and low. Evinne was leaning out, holding onto the frame with one hand. He saw her lips move: _I see them!_ and then she jumped out as the ship hovered to a stop.

She was covered in blood and dust and she looked terrible, but she still moved with the easy, natural grace of a warrior as she ran up.

"Are you hurt?" she yelled at him.

Anakin shook his head. The only thing hurting him was his fear for Ryn.

Evinne must have seen it on his face, because she didn't waste any time, just ran back and gave him a hand into the gunship.

Obi-Wan leaned over him as he knelt on the floor of the transport, cradling Ryn. "Do you know how she was injured?"

Anakin shook his head. "There was a torture 'bot in the room where I found her."

Obi-Wan reached down to touch Ryn's hollow cheek, a curiously tender gesture from his normally reserved master. "I'm guessing that wasn't all they used."

Lying there on the floor of the gunship, Ryn convulsed, deep inside. "Anakin ..."

"No!" Anakin cried, betrayed by a sickening sense of deja vu.

Evinne snapped her gaze forward. "Pilot, step on it!"

The gunship roared forward, ignoring airlanes and traffic laws. Anakin gripped Ryn's hand tightly as another convulsion shook her. "Not long now," he told her. He hated the shake in his voice, but he couldn't help it. "So you can forget the dramatic death scene, all right? Because you're not going to die, you hear me? You're going to be fine, you're going to be fine, you're going to --"

Evinne knelt beside him. "Let me," she said, and leaned over to breathe, lightly, into Ryn's face. She laid one hand on the younger girl's forehead and the other on her juddering chest. Anakin thought she was singing softly, but he could not make out any words. Then, impossible, a faint glow passed from Evinne's calloused palms into Ryn's gray skin and faded into her body. The spasms subsided, her breathing eased, and Evinne rocked back on her heels, her face ashen with fatigue.

Anakin opened his mouth to ask her what she'd done, but Evinne laid one blood-encrusted finger against her lips: _Keep quiet._ So Anakin let it go, grateful that whatever she'd done had helped, and cradled Ryn against his chest, fighting tears, for the rest of the journey back to the Temple.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: At last, the long-awaited finale of Gravity! The first chapter of the sequel, _Cover_, will be up soon. Let me know what you think! **

**Disclaimer: In a shocking story today, it was revealed that ... George Lucas owns Star Wars!!! Insider sources also hint that DestructiveGlory is not receiving any profit from her works of fanfiction. **

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

In an all-too-familiar cold white room in the Halls of Healing, Anakin sat leaning over Ryn's bedside with one of her hands wrapped in both of his. Her eyelids fluttered, wincing away from the light, and then she squinted up at him, regaining focus. "Hey."

Her voice was cracked and rusty, and quite possibly the best sound Anakin had ever heard.

He felt the smile break across his face. "Hey."

He reached for a cup of water and held it to her lips. "You know, we have to stop meeting like this."

Ryn sipped and lay back. Her eyes were closed again, but the warmth of her smile banished the cold fear that had been coiled inside Anakin's chest ever since he had found her lying battered on a durasteel floor. "I'll do my best."

"I mean it," Anakin told her. "No more dramatic near-death scenes for at least a month. Maybe two."

Ryn snuggled deeper into her pillow. "Whatever you say."

"Just don't _scare_ me like that again, _ever_."

Ryn tried to reach for the water with her free left hand and Anakin let go her right to help her sit up against the pillows before handing her the cup.

She watched him over the rim as she sipped, and patted the bedside in invitation.

"What about the Blades of Light?" she asked as he sat down carefully on the edge of the medical bed.

Anakin stroked her side through the sheet with the sheet with the backs of his fingers. _So much damage ..._ "Evinne says they're wiped out. None of them were willing to surrender. She had the Raven Guard -- that's the Lorethan mercenary team she called in after we got a look at the hideout -- performed some pretty thorough sweeps of the area, just to be sure no one got away."

"The Raven Guard," Ryn repeated. "So I _didn't_ hallucinate that gunship. But I don't think I know them."

"Apparently they specialize in hostage extraction," Anakin said. "They hire themselves out to wealthy families whose children have been kidnapped. And don't tell Obi-Wan, but I think they might have a few less legitimate occupations on the side."

"That ought to sit well with the Council."

Anakin shrugged. "I don't see how we could have done it without them. We almost didn't make it."

"But we did." Ryn touched the still-healing pink mark on his right forearm. "What's that?"

"Shrapnel," Anakin said. "I didn't feel it at the time."

Ryn traced it one more time before meeting his eyes. "I'd thank you for saving my life, but I'm still too mad at you for not _leaving_ like I asked."

Anakin picked up a lock of long, glossy black hair and twirled it around his fingers. "I can live with that."

A soft sound of swishing cloth alerted him, and Anakin turned his head in time to catch Vokara Che's regal entrance.

"Awake, I see," she observed. "And you, Skywalker. You'd better not be tiring my patient."

But her voice lacked any real severity, and she smiled as she bent and pressed her hands to Ryn's forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Better than I have any right to expect, probably," Ryn said. "What's the diagnosis?"

"Well, you spent twenty-four hours in bacta and another twelve in a healing trance, but _now_..." Vokara Che stepped bak and surveyed her critically. "As far as I can tell, you're fit as a vioflute."

Ryn smiled at her. "So. Am I free to go?"

"I suppose. But I want you to get a third of a rotation of sleep tonight, drink plenty of water, and do _not_ let me see you back any time soon."

Ryn pressed one clenched fist to her heart in an unfamiliar gesture that Anakin guessed was some sort of Lorethan salute. "Yes, m'am."

Vokara Che leveled a stern look at Anakin. "Hold her to it."

"Yes, Master Che."

He held out a hand to steady her as she got to her feet, but after the first swirl of dizziness Ryn straightened and waved him off. "I'm fine, Anakin. I just want to get back to my quarters so I can get some real clothes." She plucked at her infirmary shift in disgust.

"Oh!" Anakin said. "I almost forgot." He reached over to the chair where he'd been sitting and picked up a package, wrapped in glittering flimsi and tied with a bright blue ribbon. "Evinne asked me to bring you this. From the feel, I'm guessing it's clothes, but she was very secretive about the whole thing."

"There is a shower in the fresher, if you want to get clean first," Vokara Che said. "You still smell like bacta. I'll be down the hall, if you need anything."

Anakin seemed reluctant to leave Ryn alone to do anything so dangerous as shower, but Ryn just sighed and shook her head at him.

"You know, for someone with a reputation for recklessness, you are remarkably cautious."

There it was: the slightly sullen pout she'd been looking for. Ryn grinned to show him she was teasing and was surprised when Anakin ducked his head and looked at her with a hint of real concern in his wide blue eyes.

"You didn't see you in the transport," he said quietly. "We couldn't stop the bleeding. Even when we got to the Temple, Master Che, she ..." Anakin's voice broke and he looked away, but Ryn saw the rest of the memory in his mind:

_"Young Sky -- Anakin." _

_ Anakin met the Healer's eyes and knew it was not good news. _

_ "We've done all we can. It is up to the will of the Force now." _

_ Anakin wanted to protest, but he couldn't speak without crying, so he just nodded dumbly. _

_ "You can sit with her, if you want, until ... well, until her fate is decided. I think she'd like to have you with her ... one way or the other. _

_ Anakin walked blindly into the room Vokara Che had indicated and rested his forehead against the transparisteel of the bacta tank where Ryn floated, pale and still a little bloody. He reached out with his feelings, sensing her pain, and tried to send her waves of encouragement through the Force. He felt the barest flicker of a response and smiled. "Yeah," he said softly. "I love you, too." _

Ryn remembered that moment from the other side, remembered the weight of Anakin's sorrow penetrating her sedation, remembered dredging up, with painful effort, the strength to send him a thread of affection and reassurance. And then all had gone blissfully, painlessly dark.

She put the package down now and looked at her best friend, the worrier.

"You can't lose me," she said, folding her arms and leaning one hip against the medical bed.

"I _know_," Anakin said, sounding miserable.

"I mean literally," Ryn said. "Even in the netherworld of the Force, I will find you."

Anakin shook his head. "When we transform into the Force, we become one with it. We lose --"

"So certain are you?" Ryn asked him, echoing Yoda with a smile. "I have glimpsed the other side, Anakin. I have seen my family there, waiting for me. As I will wait for you, if I pass through the deep water first."

She waited for Anakin to say that he would return the favor, or that he didn't believe her, or even some sort of Jedi platitude that wouldn't bring either of them any comfort, but there was nothing. He just stood silent and still, and in the end, not knowing what else to do, Ryn gave his shoulder a squeeze and went to take her shower.

The gift from Evinne did, indeed, turn out to be a set of clothes: undergarments and fitted pants with a bit of stretch and a _dawora_, the long-sleeved wraparound shirt frequently worn by Lorethan women off-world. There was even a clean, new utility belt.

Ryn put on all these things, and then went out into the room to find her boots sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. Only they weren't her boots, the ones she had worn every day since coming to the Temple. They were copies, in soft black leather that hugged the curve of her calf with the gentleness of a lover's caress. Well, she guessed, anyway.

"Looks like Evinne has been busy," she remarked as she tugged them on.

"She has been worried about you," Anakin said, his voice oddly distant. "We all have."

_I'm more worried about you,_ Ryn thought, processing his tone with concern. Anakin wasn't taking her most recent brush with death at all well. And the plain truth was that she was likely to have many more such close encounters, one of which would finally kill her. Brooding was not going to help matters, but she didn't know how to comfort him, either.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched Anakin's arm. "You okay?"

He turned to her. "I'm fine." But his face was blank and wooden, unlike the Anakin she thought she knew.

_You're scaring me,_ Ryn thought, but aloud she said, "I think I'm ready to get out of here. Walk me back to my quarters?"

"Sure."

They headed out of the infirmary and hit the stairs, Anakin's mood casting a pall over Ryn's own.

"Anakin, I'm worried about you," she said, as they turned down the corridor to her quarters. "I don't understand. Is this still about my injuries, or is it something else? _What's wrong_?"

"Nothing." Anakin caught her look of disbelief and sighed. "I'm not sure," he amended. "What you said ... about death ... it goes against the teachings of the Jedi Order."

Ryn looked at him intently. "And?"

"And I'm not sure what to believe," Anakin answered, his aura still boiling with unrest. "I need to think about this."

Ryn nodded slowly. "There's more, isn't there?"

Anakin hesitated, biting his lip. "I'm not ready to tell you yet."

_Ouch._ "Okay," Ryn said. "I can wait. Just ... let me know if I can help, all right? When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

Anakin knew he hadn't left Ryn very happy. She was concerned for him, and she wanted to help, to make everything all right. But she couldn't, because the problem was inside him: the fear and uncertainty that lurked in the corners of his mind, unwittingly given new strength by Ryn's innocent effort to console him. He wondered if she even knew how antithetical to the Jedi's teachings her promise to wait for him in the afterlife was. If she could begin to guess at the flood of conflicted memories her words had brought to light?

How many times had he heard Qui-Gon's voice speak to him when he was young? And Obi-Wan had insisted that it was impossible, that it was a manifestation of Anakin's own wishful thinking.

_But what if Obi-Wan was wrong?_

Ryn didn't understand. He wasn't _upset_, he was _thoughtful_.

_Probably,_ Anakin thought ruefully, _because she hasn't seen me do all that much thinking._

He didn't know how to explain to her that she was already doing everything anybody could, just by giving him time and space.

He felt a sudden burst of excitement in his sense of her, which must mean she had discovered the other birthday presents Evinne had left on her bed.

_Her birthday. And no one bothered to tell me until this morning._

Anakin shook his head as he walked into his own quarters and picked up the gift he had made for Ryn. It was like her not to say anything, he thought. She didn't think of herself much. But it was important to celebrate the small victories with family.

Even if the family was one you'd made, rather than the one you'd been born into.

Anakin entered Ryn's quarters without knocking and found her standing at the window with her back to the door. He approached her carefully, knowing she could sense his presence but trying to hide his own anticipation.

"Evinne told me today was your birthday."

Ryn blushed faintly. "Yes."

"Thirteen?"

"Yes." Ryn's voice broke on the word.

"If I'd known," Anakin said, not bothering to hide his exasperation, "I would have gotten you a better present."

"I didn't expect anything," Ryn said, and then suddenly looked confused. "Wait ..."

Anakin felt the grin on his face as he pulled his hands out of his sleeves and clicked the pieces together before handing them to her as a single unit.

Ryn accepted it with graceful fingers and turned it over in her hands, clearly puzzled. "I ... thank you. What is it?"

"A holocam," Anakin said. "I made it out of some spare droid parts. It's -- I thought, you could take holos to send home to your family. You can read holos on it, too, so if Kit sends you some, you could have them to look at ..."

Ryn pressed a hand to her mouth, blinking away what Anakin was dismally sure were tears.

"You don't like it?" Anakin asked, racking his brain for where he might have gone wrong.

Ryn finally looked up at him, a smile turning the tears to gems glittering on her cheeks in a heartbeat. "I love it," she assured him huskily. "It's perfect."

The tight knot of worry beneath Anakin's ribcage began to dissolve. "I wish I'd known sooner, I could have made you something better."

"I didn't want anything," Ryn said, and he knew it was true, but it didn't matter.

"It's your thirteenth birthday," he reminded her. "You should have something."

_All I want is for you to kiss me._

Ryn shook her head and started to speak, but then she saw that Anakin had picked up her thought, and she fell silent, her cheeks staining a deep vermillion. Anakin could _feel_ her humiliation, potent as a drug, making her miserable; she wouldn't meet his eyes.

That wasn't right. It wasn't right for her to hurt like this.

"Well," Anakin said, drawing the word out with a teasing smile, "I guess I could give you _ one_ more thing."

Ryn did look up then, eyes wide and startled, shaking her head wordlessly.

"Close your eyes," Anakin murmured.

He cupped Ryn's face in his hands, meeting those sparkling green eyes for just a second before she obeyed him and he let his gaze fan out to study the rest of her face as he hadn't taken the time to do before: not just as his friend, but as a beautiful woman. Delicate, sharply defined features, clear pale skin that seemed almost to luminesce: there was a lot to like, but he liked it more because it was Ryn.

He lowered his mouth slowly to hers, giving her time to break away if she really wanted to, but Ryn held as still as if frozen.

She was stiff and still, resistant; but Anakin swept his lips over hers once, twice, again -- not forceful but insistent, and then suddenly her lips parted on a sigh and she let him in.

And because it was Ryn, she gave him everything without question, nothing held back, and Anakin could feel the flutter of her heartbeat in her throat against his fingertips as she swayed closer, closing the gap between them, and tilted her head back, letting him take the kiss deeper.

Anakin tangled one hand in Ryn's silky hair and slid the other down to her waist, pulling her closer still. He heard himself moan and felt a brief flash of embarrassment, quickly replaced by a rush of heat when Ryn answered him with a soft little cry of pleasure that tightened his groin and made his blood thunder like surf in his ears. She twined the fingers of one hand in his short curls and kissed him back, hot and reckless, abandoning her hard-won restraint as though it had never mattered, as though she'd never really cared for anything but this kiss. She had no idea what she was doing -- and neither did Anakin -- but the sweet, wild desire she was no longer ruthlessly denying more than made up for her lack of experience. It was a revelation, and a gift, and Anakin took it with both hands.

The galaxy outside held complications -- Anakin's own feelings for Padmé, waiting but always there, and the problems of attachment, and the brief and bitter tragedy of loss that was Ryn's life so far, and a thousand other things. But inside the kiss, there was only Anakin and Ryn and the sweet spring of love and passion and friendship and loyalty and heady desire that surged up, obliterating the boundaries between them and sealing the horrors of the galaxy outside.

Anakin unwound his fingers from Ryn's hair and slid both hands to her hips to press their bodies more tightly together. Ryn's wordless moan of appreciation vibrated through to his core, and Anakin nudged her knees apart with his, mindless with the need to get closer, and pulled her up on to her toes and felt her shudder and rock against him.

Another time, Anakin would have been embarrassed beyond words to know that Ryn couldn't possibly _not_ feel his physical response. Here and now, since Ryn's only reaction to this ill-mannered intrusion was to press herself more urgently against him, he decided to take it as a sign that she didn't mind and only took her mouth harder, gasping for air and yet unwilling to pull back to breathe.

He was so busy discovering the joys of slipping his fingers beneath the edge of Ryn's waistband -- every time he brushed the sensitive skin over her hipbones, he could feel her tremble and clutch deep in her core, and it felt like Podracing, every tremor sent him flying inside -- that he didn't hear the door open, or register the words that broke the spell of their kiss. But he sensed the intrusion and dragged himself away from Ryn's sweet, burning mouth to stare into eyes as dazed as his own and then turn to Evinne, standing surprised in the doorway. He glanced back at Ryn, horrified at what he'd just done and wanting to do it again.

"Happy birthday," he croaked, and fled.

Obi-Wan and Anakin waited at Dexter's Diner with no very clear idea what they were waiting _for_. Evinne had said, "birthday party," but the profusion of flowers and the muted lights that had transformed the once-familiar space made it unlike any birthday party Anakin had ever attended, and it was doubtful whether Obi-Wan's life in the Temple had made him familiar with anything that could actually be called a _party_.

Dex himself, apparently cleaned up for the occasion, noticed their cautious examination of the place and tossed them one of his overstated winks. "Betcha hardly recognize the place, eh, Jedi?"

Obi-Wan surveyed the dining area again. "You've certainly altered the decor."

"Oh, it wasn't me. That gold-headed girl and her friends, they spent half the afternoon in here, decorating. I never aw so many flowers outside a greenhouse. But I gather your pretty friend needs a pick-me-up, anyway."

"Pretty friend," Anakin repeated. "You mean Ryn?"

"That's the one! Listen, Friend, humans ain't exactly my type -- no offense -- but even _I_ know she's the best-looking piece of pie ever to walk through those doors."

Dex chuckled and moved off. Obi-Wan leaned to the side and spoke to Anakin, sotto voce. "Is Ryn really that attractive?"

Anakin tried not to cringe. Given his activities this afternoon, Ryn's attractiveness was the last thing he wanted to discuss. He shook his head to clear it and said, "The other Padawans think so."

It was an odd response, and he knew that Obi-Wan had noticed, but he wasn't about to apologize, and there was no way he could explain.

He was saved from further questioning by one of the Lorethans who had participated in the strike on the Blades of Light. "They're just outside! Okay, everybody, when they come through the door, shout 'happy birthday'!"

The lights dimmed even further. The door to the pedway opened, and Evinne ushered in a Ryn Anakin had never seen before, brighteyed, clad in sparkling white and crowned with flowers. She paused in the entrance, lips parting in surprise, backlit by Coruscant's sunset, and actually flinched when the diner chorused "happy birthday!" in at least three languages.

She laughed and turned to Evinne. "Your idea?"

"Partly," Evinne said. "There's plenty of blame to go around."

Ryn laughed again and took a step into the room, only to be thronged by well-wishers.

Anakin stood with his master to one side and watched the proceedings with interest. He found himself a little surprised by the display, coming from people who didn't know Ryn well. And all this effusion seemed out of place with what he knew about Lorethan culture. He would have expected taciturn greetings, perhaps some sort of acoustic music ... he didn't know what, exactly. He stretched out with the Force to gain a sense of the feelings in the room and found ... _Admiration. Relief. Profound respect._

Makesh -- he of the blue hair and, according to Obi-Wan, excellent blaster skills -- saw his interest and acknowledged it with a glass lifted in salute. "You look thoughtful, young Jedi."

That was more intrusion than Anakin liked, but he was here at a party, in Ryn's honor, so he figured he ought to make himself agreeable. He shoved his irritation aside and said, "I was thinking that for people who do not know Ryn well, you are very happy to be attending her birthday party."

"Ah, that. Seeing a planetary hero spring back from wounds like she had will do that to a fellow, make him feel celebratory. And besides," he grinned wickedly, holding his drink aloft, "a good Lorethan never needs an occasion to party hard."

Anakin grinned back at this response. He liked the thorny-tempered Rave, and was impressed with the aura of strength he projected, though he had missed the older man's display of battle prowess during the bloodbath that had followed their raid on the Blades of Light. "But you don't know Ryn personally?"

"I served under her brother," Makesh said evasively. "He's a good commander."

_That's not what I asked,_ Anakin thought. "Where is Kit these days?" he asked aloud, ignoring the warning look Obi-Wan sent him. "We were hoping to meet him soon."

Makesh made a face. "I don't go back home much," he said, scowling forbiddingly. "Cheers." He took his drink and wandered off.

"They're a close-mouthed group," Obi-Wan observed, and Anakin had to agree. Even Ryn, who Anakin was sure trusted them, didn't reveal much about goings-on back home. "I wonder if it has anything to do with their history with the Jedi." Pause. "Anakin?"

But Anakin didn't answer, because across the room Ryn looked up and met his eyes, and he'd never seen a being light up like that. The smile bloomed like a starburst across her face, her green eyes brightened, and despite the fact that he knew it to be impossible, Anakin could have sworn her skin actually incandesced.

She took a step away from whoever was trying to claim her attention, and Anakin hurried to meet her halfway. Ryn reached out and took his hands, slightly breathless. "Anakin! I sensed you nearby, but I told myself I must be imagining things. I can't believe the Jedi let you come."

_Why?_ Anakin thought, but he smiled at her. "It's your birthday," he said. "I wouldn't miss it."

"I am _so glad you're here._" Ryn gave his hands a squeeze and let go, probably because Evinne had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and was pulling her away.

"Come on, you have to do the polite thing a little longer," the golden-haired Lorethan said. She winked over her shoulder at Anakin. "Don't worry. I'll have her back in no time."

Anakin settled back in beside Obi-Wan, who fortunately didn't scold him with anything more potent than a raised eyebrow, and watched Ryn make the rounds of the room with Evinne hovering protectively close by. Actually, Ryn had to do but very little moving; Anakin wondered whether that was a sign of her rank or merely a practice for birthday parties.

To Anakin's surprise, several people also came up and introduced themselves to him and Obi-Wan.

Among them was a familiar-looking redhead.

"I don't know whether you will remember me," she said, sidling in to be heard over the music pounding through the diner. "My name is --"

"Banora," Anakin supplied.

Banora smiled and moved even closer. "You have a good memory, Jedi."

"Anakin Skywalker. And I'm a Padawan."

"A Padawan is one who learns things, yes?" Anakin nodded. "What things do you learn?"

Anakin scrambled his wits to answer her. "How to use the Force. How to control our emotions. Galactic politics and history. Physical training. Uh --"

Banora stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Tell me about this physical training," she said. "It must be very rigorous."

"It isn't easy," Anakin admitted. "But control of the mind begins with control of the body."

"I have heard that the Jedi are ascetics."

Anakin wasn't positive where this conversation was going, but Banora seemed to be finding it fascinating. "I guess we are."

"So you don't ever indulge in physical pleasures, with another being?"

"Uh ..." Anakin shook himself. "It is permitted, but it is not encouraged."

Banora reached out to trace his Padawan braid with her fingertips. "Control is greatly valued by women as well as Masters, you know."

Anakin swallowed, trying to use a little of that control to dispel the tension he felt coiling inside. "It is?"

"Oh, yes. It is essential." Banora took a deep breath that almost caused her breasts -- _soft, round ... Oh, Force_ -- and her low, corseted top to part company.

She was about to say more when Evinne appeared behind her and reached over her shoulder to gently tug Anakin's braid free of her clasp. "Banora, I am not going to protect you when Orun comes over here to find out why you are crawling all over her favorite Jedi."

Banora blushed and looked up to meet Anakin's curious gaze. "I meant no disrespect, Padawan Skywalker."

"That's all right," Anakin managed, and Banora bowed and drifted away.

Evinne leaned against the bar, regarding him with fond exasperation. "I'm guessing that whatever Ryn sees in you, it isn't your ability to smooth-talk women."

Anakin felt himself blushing. Evinne saw his discomfort and smiled. "Relax, Skywalker. It's obvious what she sees in you."

Anakin eyed her warily, half-expecting another of Evinne's cracks about his looks. She seemed to take a special delight in making him uncomfortable. But this time she just jerked her chin in Ryn's direction. "So. You going to hit that?"

"What?"

Evinne glanced over at Obi-Wan, who had wandered a short distance away, in conversation with a light-haired woman, and lowered her voice. "Are you going to finish what I interrupted this afternoon?"

Anakin felt his jaw tighten. "That was a mistake."

"I don't think Ryn would call it that."

No, probably Ryn wouldn't. That was part of the problem. Not only had Anakin behaved in a very unJedilike fashion; he had also created expectations he could never fulfill. It had been bad enough to know that Ryn's feelings for him were decidedly more than friendly. They had both tried, at least, to get past that. They had even managed, against all the odds, to form a true friendship in spite of the initial awkwardness. And now Anakin had betrayed that friendship. He'd kissed her and stripped her defenses and laid bare that intense longing she'd tried so hard to hide. And then he'd just walked away.

_I'm a cad._

"I know," he said miserably to Evinne. The memory of Ryn's eagerness -- it had felt so good at the time, being wanted like that -- burned him now.

Evinne studied him for a minute. "Got carried away, did you?" she remarked at last.

Anakin nodded, so heavy with guilt he could barely move.

"I'm not sure how you'll take this," Evinne said slowly, "but I'm going to say it anyway. Have you heard of 'friends with benefits'?"

Anakin scowled at her. "Yes."

"It's not a bad arrangement," Evinne said, unfazed by his disapproval. "I mean, as long as both parties know where they stand." She looked into her drink. "I had that with Terch."

_You had more than that with Terch._ "You say 'had'," Anakin pointed out. "Things aren't going well?"

Evinne sighed. "I never really expected him to stick around. It's not his line. He's a drifter."

But Anakin heard the ache in her voice. "You miss him."

"I miss the benefits." But she smiled, a little. "And I think you and Ryn could both use some."

Anakin wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused. "Somehow I hadn't pictured you as a matchmaker."

"Well, Ryn deserves a little happiness, and so do you." Evinne grimaced. "That, and I'm drunk."

Anakin laughed, the vestiges of his anger melting away. "I make a habit of never taking love advice from drunks."

"Terrible idea," Evinne said. "Drunks are the only ones loose enough to tell you the truth." She grinned at him. "And on that note, I'm going to get another drink." She waved her mostly-empty cup at him and swayed off into the crowd.

Anakin watched her go. He had a feeling he'd never really understand Evinne, or her odd, not-quite-friendly relationship with his best friend.

As though his thoughts had summoned her, Ryn drifted up next to him, out of the crowd. "You look serious."

Anakin turned slightly to smile at her. "Not any more." he tracked her movement as she crossed in front of him and boosted herself onto the nearest bar stool. "Has Obi-Wan said anything about your dress?"

"Like what?"

"Well, it doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"I didn't trust your imagination." She grinned cheerfully at his expression. "Besides, it was a birthday present from Evinne. And it matched the shoes." She flexed one high-arched foot, showing him a silver sandal that matched the beading on her dress.

"That is _not_ the natural color of your toenails," Anakin observed, staring with interest at the vivid, glossy green.

"Well, of course not," Ryn agreed, wiggling her toes at him. "But it's pretty, don't you think?"

Anakin shook his head to clear it.

"No? Not pretty?"

"No!" Anakin exclaimed. "I mean, yes! I mean, your toes are fine. I just ... you're acting like a girl."

Ryn regarded him with amusement. "What did you think I was, a Wookiee?"

"No! I didn't mean it like that. I just didn't think you would care about stuff like that. Primping. You know ... Oh, Force. I'm going to stop talking now."

Ryn's expression turned thoughtful, and she looked down at her green toenails again. "I like it," she said slowly. "It's just ... On Coruscant, it hasn't been important. Or even, in a sense, appropriate." She hesitated. "Back home, because we have so few men, physical attractiveness is important for women. It gives you an edge in the scramble to find someone and carry on the family line. And from the time I was very young, I knew I was considered pretty, and that was ... valuable." _You're a lot more than pretty,_ Anakin thought, but he nodded for her to go on. "And then I came here, and I guess I look the same, but it doesn't mean anything, because 'luminous beings are we'. I don't mind, not really, I just ..." Ryn's voice trailed off and she shook her head, pressing her newly glossy lips together.

"Just what?" Anakin asked her gently.

Ryn shook her head again. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Ryn sighed and wrapped her hand around one slim knee. "I left home just when being pretty could have been really useful," she said, and Anakin heard the echoes of frustration in her voice -- not at leaving, but at herself for caring. "When I left, I was a pretty kid who might turn into an attractive woman. And then I _did_ turn out to be attractive -- it sounds _awful_ when I say it, so _conceited_ -- only to move to a place where no one cares what I look like. I never got to enjoy it, even for a minute. I never got to feel desirable. I just ... had potential, and then I achieved it, sort of, only it didn't mean anything." She kicked her stool. "You must think I'm horribly shallow."

"No," Anakin said.

Ryn eyed him doubtfully. "Come on. You never think about your looks. You're gorgeous, and everybody in the Temple notices it but you."

"I'm good at fixing things," Anakin said.

Ryn picked her new holocam up by its wriststrap and waved it at him as evidence. "I know."

"On Tatooine, that made me special," Anakin went on. "_Valuable._ I could fix things no one else could fix. I even took on odd jobs sometimes, without telling Watto. It was a way to help Mom." He saw the sympathy on Ryn's face, but instead of diving into it, he pressed on. "At the Temple, that doesn't matter anymore. I mean, sure, it's come in handy a few times on missions, but nobody really wants a Jedi to be an expert mechanic. Mostly it just makes me different."

Ryn was silent for a long minute, absorbing what he'd said. Then the ghost of a smile cracked through her solemnity. "You know I love you, right?"

Anakin grinned at her. "I know."

"Good." Ryn leaned back on her stool and said, "Oh, and you're not a mechanic. You're an improvisational engineer."

"A what?" Anakin asked, amused.

"You heard me." She picked up her drink and handed it to him. "Here. Tell me if they got this right."

Anakin sipped, and felt the smile stretch across his face. "A ruby bliel!" he exclaimed. "How did you manage that?"

"Not me: Evinne. Be careful; she probably had them add alcohol."

"I can taste it. But it's still a fair approximation."

"I'll give Evinne your compliments." Ryn hopped off the stool. "Hang on to it for me, will you? I have to go speak to Obi-Wan."

Anakin was nibbling izzy-mold when the lights dimmed and the flow of conversation stopped.

"Okay!" Evinne said, stepping forward into the middle of the diner. "Dex has very graciously allowed us to clear a dance floor, so we want to thank him for that." Cheers. "But before we can start dancing the night away, the birthday girl has to choose a partner for the first dance." She took a long step to the left, caught Ryn's hand, and dragged her, blushing, into the center floor. "Is there any man here who would like to share a dance with this young woman?" Chorus of _yes._ "All right, Areth'ryn. It looks like you have your pick. Who will it be?"

For a heartbeat Anakin was sure Ryn was going to choose him. But she passed him over with a smile and a conspiratorial wink.

She walked up to Makesh and held out her hands. The blue-haired Lorethan looked both amused and uncertain, but Ryn grinned and twirled her hips at him, eyes glinting with a teasing light. "Come on, Makesh. Show the outlanders how it's done."

Makesh laughed ruefully and took her outstretched hand, only to instantly switch roles and lead her to the dance floor, rather than the other way around.

The music began, heavy with drumbeats, and for the next seven minutes, the entire diner watched, fascinated, as the two of them spun and gyrated and, once, turned cartwheels, interweaving their movements so that they were a half-turn apart and back-to back, their long straight limbs forming star shapes with each rotation.

It was a pretty demonstration, and earned them a lot of cheering when they were done, causing them to laugh and bow, first to the asesmbled partygoers and then to each other.

"Excuse me, milady," Makesh said, and beat a hasty retreat.

Ryn sent an exasperated look after him and then made her own more leisurely way to the bar, where Anakin and obi-Wan were leaning and sipping drinks.

Anakin handed Ryn her ruby bliel, and Ryn, apparently untroubled by the fact that he'd drunk at least half of it, took a sip and then handed it back to him.

"What's with Makesh?" Obi-Wan asked her, and Ryn grimaced as other couples took the floor behind her.

"Shame," she said. "Needless shame, and a severely misplaced sense of chivalry."

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked, and Ryn frowned.

"I don't know the whole story," she admitted. "Makesh Aravel has something of a reputation as an irresponsible playboy, a drifter, a ..." her brow scrunched tighter as she struggled for the right word. "... a good-for-nothing, you would say."

"And no one knows why?" Anakin asked.

Ryn turned her scowl on him. "Not _no one._ Just not _me_. I expect it has something to do with his father kicking him out, years ago, but I never knew the reason. Anyway, it's hard for a disinherited man to get work, but in those days we needed every fighter we could get. He volunteered for the militia, and that's where our paths crossed. Kit hauled him out of the supply runs and put him on the line at the Battle of Thorrin. I was just seven at the time: too young to fight, but not too young to reload blasters, so we were on the line together. Makesh earned an arm-band -- like your service medals, sort of -- for his performance that day." She shook her head. "I haven't seen him in a long time."

"That doesn't explain why he was so reluctant to be dancing with you," Obi-Wan said.

Ryn made a face. "He's keen to save me from myself. Doesn't want to sully my innocence or tarnish my reputation."

"That sounds sexist," Anakin said, and Ryn looked surprised.

"I don't think he's anxious to protect me because I'm a girl," she replied. "But a boy would have been much less likely to ask him to dance." She hopped down from her bar stool. "Too much serious thinking. Master Kenobi, I am most eager to see you dance." Tugging Obi-Wan forward, she grinned at Anakin over his shoulder. "Later for you, and don't think you're getting out of it. But I see Banora headed your way again, and I'm not getting in the middle of that."

Ryn's words soon proved themselves correct. As Obi-Wan swayed cautiously to the beat, clasping hands with Ryn, the red-haired Lorethan drifted up and hopped up onto the stool Ryn had vacated him.

"It looks as though Evinne was wrong about your girl," she said softly, tossing her head to indicate Ryn. "She's danced with two other men already."

"Ryn can dance with anyone she wants," Anakin said firmly.

"Oh, I'm sure. I just wonder about her taste. If it were me, I'd want _you_."

Anakin wasn't about to admit to Banora that he'd thought much the same thing -- the last part, anyway. He would have thought she was angry about their kiss that afternoon, but she had definitely been happy to see him. _I trust her,_ Anakin told himself. _She has her reasons and she'll tell me when she can. I just have to be patient._ Patience wasn't what Anakin did best, but for Ryn he'd try.

So now he forced a smile and said, "I guess she knows she can have me any time she wants me, so there's no rush."

Banora raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't strike you as a little manipulative."

_Yes._ Except it probably also wasn't Ryn's real plan. _Get over here and explain yourself, Ryn. I'm not doing a very good job._ "We're old friends."

"Ah." Banora looked back at Ryn, who was appalling Ryn with her provocative dance moves -- and also, Anakin noticed, laughing her head off. "How friendly?" she asked, turning back to Anakin.

"We're very close," Anakin said, not paying attention to what he was saying as he stretched out with the Force to try and read Banora. "We built a droid together."

He'd expected something unpleasantly predatory, given Banora's aggressively seductive demeanor. But all he could sense from her, in the instant before her eyes snapped up and her brows whipped together and she said, "A _droid_?" was desire and loneliness and haunting fear.

He ignored her question about the droid and leaned closer, looking into her eyes so she could see his absolute sincerity. "What are you afraid of, Banora?"

Hard eyes flashed. "I'm not afraid."

_Yes, you are,_ Anakin thought. "Look, I'm a Jedi. Maybe I can help you."

Banora looked away. "I don't need your help. And I don't want your pity, _Jedi_. I can take care of myself. I just thought we might have some fun."

"Give it up, Ban," said a voice behind Anakin's shoulder, and then Evinne stepped around him, waving another vividly colored drink. "Skywalker's incorruptible. But there are other men here tonight, and many of them would be panting for a night with you. And if there is no man here who pleases you, then we will go out and hunt, and not rest until the man has been found who can satisfy the ache in your loins."

All this sounded more crude than appealing to Anakin; but Evinne's tone was gracious and soothing, without a trace of irony: she clearly meant just what she said. And Banora just as clearly accepted the offer at face value. She bowed her head.

"I thank you, Aesin'Evinne. Yet I would not insist upon such a hunt on this occasion. I will give every man here a fair chance, rather." She touched Anakin lightly on the arm as she hopped down. "Forgive me, Jedi. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Evinne sighed and shook her head as she watched Banora walk away. "Great shame will be on her for this, I fear. To approach the same man twice in one evening ... that reeks of desperation."

Desperation didn't seem like a bad description for what Banora was feeling. "Did I hear you right?" Anakin asked, not worried about Banora's desperation for now. "Did you just offer to go out and _hunt_ a man to sleep with her?"

"Well, yes," Evinne said. "Banora has been a loyal companion at need. I have a responsibility to see that her needs are met."

"By finding someone she can screw?"

Evinne met his gaze levelly. "You speak as a native of Tatooine," she said, her voice quiet but unashamed. "No blame to you in that. But there are places in the galaxy -- too few and far between it's true -- where sex is not about power, not about one being using another. Sex can be -- _should_ be -- a gift two beings give each other. And because there are so few of our own men left, our women must adapt. Sometimes that means cultivating tastes they never knew they had. Sometimes it means looking elsewhere in the galaxy. Banora wants what most of us want -- someone to hold tonight, a man to give her a child tomorrow. There are still places on Loreth where it is considered bad luck to go to bed alone, and a host was thought ill-mannered if he did not provide for his guests." Seeing Anakin's blank look, she sighed. "What I mean is, Banora thinks it is my duty to see everyone paired off for the night. I lose face if she goes to bed alone."

"Oh." Anakin wasn't sure what to say to that. "I'm sorry to make your task more difficult."

Evinne gave him a rueful smile. "Don't be. I'd be disappointed in you if you went to bed with anyone but Ryn. Her, I still think you should move on. It's obvious you care deeply for each other. And the way she looks at you ... don't give that up lightly."

"I don't," Anakin said.

"You two have something special together. And a girl's first time should be special."

"Yours wasn't," Anakin said with sudden conviction, and Evinne's full lips tightened briefly.

"No."

"Tell me."

"Not tonight." Evinne gestured at the spinning, heaving dancers, some of whom were indulging in a little public foreplay. Makesh, Anakin noticed, had given up anything so civilized as actual dancing and was instead grinding against a scarred young woman with one leg wrapped around his waist, teasing her spine with long skilled fingers as she rocked against him with her head thrown back, panting. "Do you want me to make sure you're not propositioned again tonight? Except by Ryn, of course."

"I can take care of myself," Anakin said, unconsciously echoing Banora. "And Ryn wouldn't."

Evinne looked back at the younger girl, who was parting from Obi-Wan now as the dance came an end. "No, she probably wouldn't," Evinne agreed reluctantly. "Well, no one ever accused her of being smart." She clapped Anakin on the shoulder and turned to go. "I've got a man with a taste for redheads to find. Signal if you need me."

Ryn wasn't long arriving in the flesh, grinning and trailing a flustered Obi-Wan. "Well, what about it?" she asked Anakin, beckoning to him from half a meter away. "Got the dance free?"

"I don't know, I'll have to check my card ..." Ryn punched him in the arm and Anakin laughed. "I guess I could make room for you, since you give such a convincing argument."

Ryn laughed back as he abandoned what was left of the ruby bliel and followed her to the dance floor. It was a slower, sweeter song than the first two, and Anakin fitted his hands into the deep curve of Ryn's waist and pulled her close, swaying in time to the music.

"Sorry about the first two dance," she murmured, her voice pitched low. "I didn't want to make Obi-Wan nervous."

_Suspicious, you mean._ "Hard to avoid that, sometimes," Anakin said, distracted by the scent of her skin, the feel of her body in his hands, warm and lithe and all his, if he'd just say the word.

But he didn't say anything, just rocked to the beat, enjoying this quiet intimacy.

Ryn didn't press him to talk, or to hold her closer, as a lover might, or even to explain what the hell had happened that afternoon. And Anakin found himself relaxing, ever so slowly, into her warm acceptance.

So of course that was when everything went all to hell. Anakin was looking into Ryn's eyes, marveling at how good it felt, when the front door flew open and a wild-eyed woman about Obi-Wan's age ran in.

"Aesin'Evinne! They took Cam!"

The dancers all froze, Ryn and Anakin included. Evinne stepped forward. "Who did?"

"Ziro's men," the woman gasped. "And I don't ... I mean, there's only one thing Ziro wants to Cam and a couple of Twi'leks."

Evinne's face twisted. "Slaves." The woman nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "Stang. We'll have to deal with this quickly, before they can be shipped off-planet." She turned to Ryn. "It's probably better if you and the Jedi are not involved --"

Anakin tightened his grip on Ryn's arm before she could say anything. "If slave raids are being conducted on Coruscant itself, the Jedi _have_ to get involved." He turned to Obi-Wan for support. "Right, Master?"

Obi-Wan hesitated.

The Force surged in warning; there was a faint whistling sound. Evinne's eyes widened. "_GET DOWN!_" she screamed, and Anakin grabbed Ryn and threw them both to the floor as a wave of heat and noise blasted through the diner.


End file.
